


Half-Breed

by ChrysaoraAdora



Series: Star of Septarsis [1]
Category: Star vs. The Forces Of Evil
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Body Horror, Character Death, Emotional Manipulation, Gen, Mewmans are racist, Mon!Star AU, POV Second Person, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, River is a nice dude, Toffee doesn't throw narwhals at people, Toffee said fuck too much, because lizards can't have aspirin, don't worry it grows back, had to raise the rating, he fucking shoots them, implied past dub-con, its a slow burn lads, obviously, practical use of illegal drugs, reference to war crimes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-09-21 10:03:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 74,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17041682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChrysaoraAdora/pseuds/ChrysaoraAdora
Summary: You are Star, daughter of Prince Toffee of Septarsis, and you have spent thirteen dull, uninterrupted years in the Butterfly family dungeon. Today is your thirteenth birthday, and something is finally going to change. Something has to change.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> People make such beautiful Mon!Star art and I like it so much I made a thing. Enjoy!

Be Star.

The dungeon where you live with Papa is cold and dark, even with the heat lamp in your room. Only recently did you learn it was a dungeon at all, or what a dungeon is. A dungeon is where the King and Queen put people they don’t want to look at. What Papa did to get here is already history, something you learn from books and stories. What you don’t understand is why the Queen wouldn’t kill his daughter. 

It would be like trading. He killed her mother, the Evil Queen, and so she probably should have killed his daughter and then him--to make sure Septarsis couldn’t stand against her again. It’s what you would do. What Papa would do. But it isn’t what Queen Moon did.

You have to know why.

It’s your thirteenth birthday today, and you want the answers Papa always denies you. Every time you ask is another excuse. You’re too little. Too fragile. Too impolite, if you bother him long enough. You know he knows why you’re here.

“Papa.” You cross your arms imperiously. “It’s my birthday.”

“So it is.”

“I’m thirteen years old today.”

“Yes.”

“Tell me why we’re here. For my birthday.”

“A very reasonable request.” His face is unreadable, less and less common as you get older and learn to read him better. “Are you certain?”

“Yes. Please.”

“Then we’ll start with a story. Do you remember the one about the war, and the last Queen?”

“I do.”

“We’ll tell it again. Humor me,” he adds, when you frown. “Once, I was a general under Archduke Batwin, the so-called King of Monsters….”

You know every word by heart, and your mind whispers along with his voice.

“I served his father before him, his grandfather...many generations. I left for a single week to attend to a personal matter. A single week was all it took, and then he was eating out of Queen Comet’s hand. She offered him sweets and a place at the grown-up table. Seth was not pleased. When I returned to Septarsis, Seth demanded I put a stop to the treaty. It was bitterly unfair,” Papa hisses. It would be scary, if you didn’t know him. This is just how he is when he tells this part of the story. Papa wants all monsters to be safe and treated fair, and he cares a lot about it. Maybe even too much. “Our people would lose everything. Mewmans who burnt our homes and killed our children would go completely free, and our defenders would die. It was foolish, sentimental, imbecilic to leave when I did. Batwin agreed to Queen Comet’s treaty--”

“--So you took your spells and your sword, and you cut off the Evil Queen’s head.” You make pretend like you’re holding a sword and hacking at an evil queen, annoyed. “I know!” 

“That’s right. I made sure she never hurt another monster.” Papa shakes his head. “But she had a daughter. Her daughter tricked someone very, very powerful, and learned a spell that could hurt me. She meant to kill me, but she missed.”

“She got your finger instead.”

“That’s right, hatchling.” He scritches your head gently with his not-hurt hand, comforting you like he always does when you’re too distracted to tell him you aren’t a hatchling anymore. “It never grew back. My soldiers fled. But there’s more, little Star. You know that. I think you know where the pieces don’t fit.”

“None of the pieces fit!”

Papa only laughs, and you want to yell more. Instead, you take a deep breath. Focus. 

“It isn’t funny. Tell me the rest.”

Doubt flashes across his face, a split second of hesitation before he turns away.

“I fled with my mate, to regroup and return better-prepared. The young Queen sent soldiers after us. I was captured to let my mate and my troops escape. Now we are here.”

You frown. “Why didn’t my mother take me with her?”

“You weren’t alive yet, my dear.” Papa laughs, shaking his head. “Rasticore certainly isn’t your mother.”

“Rasticore.” You try the name out thoughtfully. It doesn’t sound like a mom-name, and your dad winces like the name hurts him. “Where is she now?”

“He’s probably been killed. I try not to think about it.”

“Oh.” His sadness makes you feel guilty for asking, but you push through it. Come on, Star, remember what you want. Don’t give up. “Then tell me who my mother is.”

“Won’t be distracted, hm? That’s no fun at all.”

“Papa.”

“Let an old lizard have his games. You’re a bright girl. You should already know.”

“I don't! Just tell me.”

You hate playing games with important things. You hate it! He knows everything about you and who you are, where you’re from, what really happened--but he won’t tell you. Not on his own. You knew he wouldn’t just tell you.

“Ah, ah.” He tsks, making your blood boil. “Don't raise your voice.”

“Tell me.”

Papa frowns thoughtfully. “...No.”

“TELL ME!”

Your voice feels heavier in your throat. Echoes dance around the words like ghosts even after you close your mouth, extra weight you’ve never felt that gets--no, compels Papa to turn around and look at you in horror and say the words you really, really hoped he wouldn't.

“Queen Moon. No. How did you do that?”

His fear frightened you. You don't know what you did, or how you did it, but your head swims with the revelation. You’re the Evil Queen’s granddaughter. That horrible woman who hurt your dad is your mother.

“Magic. Please, no.” Is he...afraid? Mouth agape, eyes wide, hands up as though he’s begging you to take it back. “Star. Please. Don’t do that again.”

“Why.”

“You can’t do magic here.”

He’s wrong! Furious and young, thoughtless, so impossibly angry, you do it again. A siren blares distantly. Again. Again. Again. He should have told you! You should have known. You’re spitting out questions and frustrated tears while Papa scoops you up and dumps you on your cot, kicks it to the back of the room, and snarls like nothing you’ve ever seen when the door swings open.

“No.”

“Toffee.” Says the strange, blue woman in the doorway.

“Moon.” Papa growls.

The new woman wears fancy, shiny clothes like none of the guards have. Her hair is powdered and bigger than her head, her heavy blue skirts too wide to even fit through the door. Even her eyes are blue, and they shift from Papa to you just as you notice the diamonds burnt across her cheeks to match the one she wears on top of her puffy blue hair.

Moon. She’s the Moon, the Queen of Mewni and the Evil Queen’s daughter. Your mother. Fear pricks under your skin like little tiny needles as you realize how much you really, really should have stopped when Papa said.

“Stay back.” Papa tugs you behind him with his tail. “Come no closer.”

“I can’t do that, Toffee.”

“She isn’t yours. You threw her away.”

“Toffee, please.” The Queen spoke very softly. Eyes to the ground, hands clasped in front of her, deflated. Defeated. ...Sad. You hide silently behind your Papa with the seething, intense knowledge that you’ve fucked up really bad. “I have no other heir, and never will. You knew this day would come.”

“I’m your heir?”

Both adults look at you--one sad, one furious.

“No.” Papa snapped. “You are not.”

“You are.” 

Queen Moon takes another step forward and into your cell. Her puffy dress barely makes it through the door. Sorrow becomes something pleading, resigned to something--but what? Resigned to you? if you weren't so upset, you’d be offended. Papa mirrors your would-be indignation, but doesn't speak. Instead he puts himself in front of you like he can shield you from what the Queen is saying.

“The Butterfly line cannot be broken. Yes, Star. You are my only child. It is time I taught you what you will need to know when I am gone. For one day, you will be Queen.” She turns to your Papa. “She will be Queen. Isn’t this what you wanted?”

“No.”

“It won’t be so terrible. So long as no one knows you are a monster, you will be treated very well. The Palace will be yours to enjoy. We have many fine things, and many fine tutors. You will never want for anything again.”

“I want my father.” You tell her.

Silence. Papa grabs your hand without looking, maybe without thinking. The Queen’s shock is a living thing on her face.

“...What do you mean?”

“If I have to leave, then he has to come with me.” You squeeze your dad’s hand, willing yourself to be brave. Don't stutter, Star. Focus. 

“Star, your father is a prisoner. I can’t simply release him. He killed Queen Comet.”

“He tooks his spells and his sword, and he cut the evil Queen Comet’s head off,” You recite the words to the story so fresh in your mind, relishing her shock. “So she could never hurt another monster again. But you hurt just as many monsters. Now our people live in the swamp and starve while you eat too much and care too little. I have all the lessons I need to know you’re bad. If I have to go with you, then he has to come.”

“He killed your grandmother!”

“You hurt my dad.”

“Star--”

“This is a negotiation. If you need me to be a princess and pretend I'm your mewman daughter, I need Papa to be free. Those are my terms.”

You let go of Papa’s hand to cross your arms. The Queen is speechless. You don’t dare look away to see Papa’s face, even though you’re dying to know what he thinks. It’s so important you do this right. Lessons on diplomacy and negotiations swirl around in your head, and you wish for the first time you paid more attention to specific strategies.

“...And if I do not agree to these terms?” She asks after a tense moment of silence.

“Then I will not be your princess. I will kick and scream and fight and escape.You’ll have to watch me every second of every day, and I won’t pretend to be a mewman. Everyone will know you have a monster kid. No one will support you anymore.”

“If that happens, the kingdom will fall. My subjects will all suffer.”

“That’s your problem.”

“...You don’t know what you’re saying. Toffee,” She looks away from you. “You can’t support this. I can’t let you roam the castle. Aside from what they will say, my court will try to kill you. Star will always be in danger.”

“Butterfly Castle is not the only place in the world. I will wait one week, if Star will allow it.” He has a hint of a smile in his voice. “Teach her what you feel you must. When you are satisfied, give her the Book of Spells and the Wand. Send us elsewhere. She will not have to hide, and I will not be in danger. Is this agreeable to you, Princess Star?”

He looks so proud of you. All you really want is to bask in it, but you can’t forget what’s at stake. You take his hand again before you face the Queen.

“Yes, Papa. I agree.”

“You cannot take her to Septarsis.” The Queen demands. “Otherwise...yes. I agree.”

“No daughter of mine will grow up scavenging in ruins. Send us to Earth.”

Taken aback, she still manages a nod. You don’t know enough about Earth to disagree. If Papa says that’s the best place, then he knows it’s the best place. You nod in agreement.

“...A neutral dimension. Yes. That is a good idea. I will allow you to live on Earth for her studies, so long as she is learning what she must and remains accessible.”

“My daughter does not shirk her responsibilities. Do not insult us.”

“She will need a tutor.”

“I have been teaching her for thirteen years, and will continue to do so. Alone.”

The Queen balks when he takes a step forward, not quite flinching but straightening her posture like she can scare him away. 

“Very well. I accept your terms, Princess Star.”

“Good.” You say, trying not to shiver under her calculating eyes. “Then we will make a contract.”

“A...contract?”

“I don’t trust you.” And you really, really don’t. Papa was right. He taught you everything you need to know to be his daughter, and as his daughter you know better than to trust anyone’s word. “We are going to write two identical contracts. We will take a magical oath. I will keep one copy, and you will keep the other. So long as one contract still exists, we will both have to do what the contract says--or we will die.”

Her eyes widen. You can almost feel Papa’s smile as she tries to compose herself.

“...Yes. Of course. A contract.”

Hours later, you’ve done just that. Two perfectly identical papers sit before you. The Queen has read and reread them, made her adjustments, and now you have both signed. Deep blue magic twists between you, making the contract official--and then she summons another court lawyer to take her copy somewhere safe. You give your copy to Papa, who hasn’t stopped smiling since you all sat down. Clearly unnerved, the Queen takes a moment to collect herself as she stands.

“I suppose I will give you a moment to pack your things, and say your goodbyes. You’ll see your father again when the week is over.”

“Yes, Queen Moon.”

“...You may call me mother, you know.”

“You’re not my mother.”

She leaves, and it’s just you and Papa. Finally. You look up at him to see the biggest, proudest grin you’ve ever ever seen while he clutches the contract in one hand.

“Is the contract loose enough for us, Papa?”

Somehow, his grin gets bigger. “We both know one can follow the letter of the law precisely, and…”

“...Completely destroy the spirit of it.”

“There you are. I couldn’t ask for a better daughter.”

\----------

The next week is a blur of Mewman history lessons, tests, and etiquette lessons you find boring and more than a little tedious. Queen Moon gives you a book of current royal families with pictures of notable members. She teaches you lineage personally, but if she’s hoping to make friends with you then she’s left disappointed. All week, you want to run back down to the dungeons and see your dad. Really you want to peel off the stupid glamor on you that makes you look like you’re blond and Mewman and a stranger in the mirror. Even one monster in court would make you feel better. 

The end of the week arrives and you’re presented with the royal wand in a coronation you wish wasn't happening. Queen Moon is convinced you’re ready. She says all kinds of nice things about how smart you are, how well you’re doing, and...how much she likes you. Her husband even likes you too. If having a stepdaughter bothers him, then he's good at pretending. He says you’re ready, too.

The official story for the people isn't exactly a lie. You’re the Queen’s bastard daughter, and she’s officially crowning you her heir. No one knows who your father is. With luck, the Queen says, no one ever will. Accepting her crown burns your mouth. You want to yell at everyone in the room, refuse, and storm the dungeons with your new wand. 

But you don't. You take the regal-looking scepter and it becomes a sort of short club, round at the top with a five-point crystal star and painted shooting stars dancing down the padded grip. Gossamer fairy wings flutter on the sides like the wand is alive and wants to take you somewhere. That goes on your list of things to do. Follow the wand. Your heart-shaped cheek marks glow happily the moment it touches your hand and you force yourself not to run out the door immediately.

Next is the Royal Book of Spells, and introductions to the tiny man inside.

“You’re wearing a glamor.” He says immediately, sounding unimpressed. 

“You’re blue.”

That gets you a laugh, so it's probably fine that you said that. “I am. My name is Glossaryk.”

“I'm Princess Star.” You curtsy to him lightly. “And I’m usually gray. A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Oh, I know who you are. Star, daughter of Toffee. Strange name for his kind, don't you think?”

“I don't know. I've never met another monster like us.”

“Of course you haven't. Nonetheless! Strange. Do you know any magic?”

You shake your head. “My dad taught me some incantations, and I can do this weird thing with my voice…but I just got the wand a few minutes ago.” 

“Okay." A wave of his many-fingered hand sends the book's pages rifling wildly behind him until the book is shut. "We’ll start with basics.”

“Now?”

With that Glossaryk dives into the closed book, vanishing and leaving you alone to wonder what you’re even going to do tomorrow.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco won't know what hit him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for kudos!!! I'm gonna do updates monday/wednesday/friday for now, so stay tuned. This will probably turn out a little longer than I originally expected, there are so many ideas.

You are Marco Diaz, and you hate being called the safe kid. That’s all there really is to say about it. Principal Skeeves calls you to the office, and you are so darn pleased to be there. Nevermind what you did to get there. You must have done something, right? Just living the bad boy life, like you do. So when you saunter into Skeeves’ office all cool-like (as you do) and see a pair of anthropomorphic Komodo dragons sitting across from your principal. And they’re wearing suits.

Well, the big one is wearing a suit. He tilts his head at you as if to ask “Why did you stop?” with a hint of amusement. 

“Diaz.” Skeeves waves you into his office. “Close the door.”

“Yeah, uh….” You look from the big lizard (still looking at you, not blinking) to your principal, back and forth because you’re not sure where to look after you close the door. “...Hi, Principal Skeeves.”

“Marco Diaz! Just the boy I need. Come on, sit down, sit down!” Principal Skeeves directs you to the seat right beside the lizard girl, who is looking stubbornly at the floor. Weirdly motionless and totally an alien as far as faces go, she still looks nervous to you. “Allow me to introduce Crowned Princess Astera Miriam Uhlayiss Butterfly, first of her name. She's a new student!”

“Hi,” You offer, trying a little half-smile. “I’m Marco.”

“Please just call me Star.” Her voice is whispery-quiet, so now you know she’s nervous.

“Good, good, they’re already getting along. Marco, this is a very special day. Princess Astera is Echo Creek’s first interdimensional transfer student!” 

“....Interdimensional?”

“Yes! She’s from--where did you say you were from, Mr. Uhlayiss?”

“Septarsis.” 

“Septarsis, of course! Now, as I was saying, the Diaz family has a long tradition of housing foster students. I’ll put you in touch with Angie Diaz, delightful woman, just wonderful--”

“Principal Skeeves?” You’re in high school and all, but you still raise your hand as a reflex until he looks at you. “They’re lizard people. Actual lizard people. Like the conspiracy theories about lizard people? They’re...lizard people.”

“Marco! That isn't polite. I’m so sorry, Mr. Uhlayiss, you know how children can be, so insensitive to--”

He only waves a hand dismissively, still smiling like he’s the only one in on a joke. Maybe that’s just his face. “Insensitive? We are lizard people. Very observant, Mr. Diaz. I wasn't aware of specific Earth mythos related to our kind. Perhaps another dimension would be more suitable?”

“No, you can't! I mean, let’s not be hasty...I’m sure your daughter will be a fine addition to our school. She’ll get along just fine.”

As Principal Skeeves backtracks, you notice a literal treasure chest behind his desk. Oh. So he’s being bribed. 

“Is this even legal?” You’re staring at the treasure chest. It looks heavy, like it's actually full of gold and jewels. It probably is. Maybe it’s straight cash. 

“What a silly question, of course it is! Star is perfectly allowed to attend school, and not because her father has made a very generous donation to our arts program.” 

“...Right. Okay. Why am I here?”

“To show Miss Star around. You’ll be her student mentor for today and give her a tour. She will shadow your classes for today, while the guidance counselor arranges her schedule and assigns her a computer for her online courses.” 

“Sure thing, Principal Skeeves. I’ll show her all the cool stuff you can find here, you know, if you don't mind a little trouble.” 

“Don't be ridiculous! I called you here because you’re the single most responsible child in this entire school. You’re incapable of getting into trouble.”

You visibly deflate. Still the safe kid. Mr. Uhlayiss laughs audibly at you.

“I’m a little capable….”

“There are worse reputations, Mr. Diaz.” Star’s dad flashes you a smile with way too many teeth. “Mr. Skeeves tells me you are a bright, charismatic young man. I am certain you will continue to be “the safe kid” whilst my daughter is in your care.”

“Yes, sir. I mean. I will, sir.” 

The look he’s giving you now is pants-shittingly terrifying. Like you had better be the safe kid, and if you are anything short of the most perfect Boy Scout you can be then Mr. Uhlayiss will snap your head off your shoulders and crush it in his alligator jaws. Safe kid, you are THE safe kid. Apparently it shows in your face, because he (satisfied he’s scared you most of the way to death) turns back to Principal Skeeves with a congenial grin. 

“Then we have business to attend to, do we not? And the children have class.” 

“Of course, of course, and we'll call Angie. Be good, Marco.” Skeeves gives you a very pointed look. Don't fuck this up for him. Sure thing, no sweat. Nothing to it. 

Star hesitates a little when you start to lead her out, looking to her dad like she isn't sure what to do.

“Go on, hatchling.” Her dad kisses the top of head quickly, flicks her cheek in a quick, easy tap that makes you think it's a culture thing. Her be-hearted cheek lights up a little. Neat. “You’ll be alright.”

“I think you’re supposed to tell me to be good.”

“You won’t shame your father with bad behavior, will you? Off you go.” 

Star still hesitates

“...You have your mirror, should you need me.” He adds, almost too quiet to hear. “Call for me, and I will come. I won’t be far.”

She’s given another quick head-kiss and sent off. With Star walking carefully behind you, you march nervously back to first period too afraid to look back or strike up friendly conversation. Only the dainty click, click of her patent leather doll shoes on the scummy hall tile reassures you she’s there at all. 

\----------

Be Princess Astera Miriam Uhlayiss Butterfly--no, just Star--and be excited for your first day of school. If excited can be contextualized to mean “really, really nervous despite your best efforts at meditating and reading about human customs when that doesn't work” then you’re definitely excited.

Human customs are pretty simple. You read a lot of useless nonsense from a tourist book the Queen gave you, before you give up and ask Papa about it. When you were little, he told stories of visiting far-off places. Unexplored jungles and wild expanses of forest no human touched. There are probably stories about monsters with dimensional scissors visiting Earth, even more now than there used to be. Since humans develop so quickly (a single generation of them can come and go in half a Mewman lifespan, though Papa suspects they live longer now than they did when he was there) they make a lot of developments per generation. It’s a whole concept and a whole day’s lesson. He also reads the tourism book.

“Some of this is probably accurate.” He frowns down at the page on “cellular devices.” “How fascinating. They’ve developed something akin to mirror magic, despite how their dimension seems to stifle magic. Our mirrors will work with their “smart phones,” whatever that means…”

That means, apparently, that you’ll be able to use your new mirrors on Earth instead of figuring out humans’ intelligent mobile devices. There’s a lot of other preparation (reading about schools, grade levels and grades for assignments, placement tests you’ll probably have to take, when school is and how much you have to go to it, what you’ll need) before you can leave for Earth the next day. 

“You should sleep.” Papa says, absently petting your hair while he reads another book about Earth schools. 

Both of you are in one bed instead of a cot; a big, fluffy thing the Queen sent down after you left. The blankets are so soft and warm you’re already falling asleep on your own book about Earth mythology. Something about a cat-headed woman, and the King dying because of his brother. It’s all very hard to follow when you’re this tired. Papa moved the heat lamp over to the bed earlier, so you’re toasty warm and squished up against his side where you slept when you were still an actual hatchling. He doesn’t seem to mind.

“I wanna, wanna…” A huge yawn interrupts you. “...Read.”

“You can read tomorrow.”

“I’m not tired.” Is what you would say, if you didn’t yawn again. Gently, Papa takes your book from you and sets it on the nightstand as you finally settle into sleep.

\----------

For all your research and worrying about every possible detail you could imagine (plus a few you couldn't), human school is kind of a let-down. So far, your day is not even half as scary as you expected. Everything in the school is loud and full of people, which isn't your favorite after years of peace and quiet, but it’s what they call “study period” now and your human guide is showing you the school library. 

When you finally said you wanted to go somewhere quiet, Marco was really excited about bringing you here. He promises that the library is always quiet, so people can study or read or whatever they’re doing in peace. 

It’s. Marvelous. Better than you could have imagined. Even though the big room isn't grand or impressive, a rectangle with a few computers on one end and everything else covered in more books than you’ve ever seen at once. There are so many! You walk very carefully up to one of the really tall shelves in front that boasts a big yellow banner saying “Books of the Month!” in glittery red letters.

“Why are they of the month, Marco?”

“It’s--huh?”

Oops, he was still talking. Never mind. You pick up one of these “Books of the Month” and read the title out loud.

“Call of the Wild.” It’s such a pretty book, a hardcover thing with silvered pages. “What’s this?”

“It’s just a story. I read it in fifth grade. All the books here are old, they’re classics.”

“Classics.” You turn the book over in your hands to read the fine-print summary. There are a few words you’re not sure of, but you’ll ask someone. Maybe you’ll even ask Marco. “Your people have a device called a...printing press, right? My dad told me all about it. It allows you to mass-produce literature.”

“Well, that was a long time ago. Now we use computers.”

“Oh. Fascinating.” Which it is! Why doesn't Mewni learn from this, if they have access to other dimensions? Why are there no printed books? “Are computers very complicated?”

“Yeah, lots of little pieces inside the case. Do you have computers on Mewni?”

“I don't think so.”

That surprises him, you think. Humans are even harder to read than Mewmans. Why can't everyone just be Septarian, so you can guess what they’re thinking? He starts on about computers while you’re still trying to process the exact face he made. After a few minutes of listening you give up trying to make sense of it, and start thinking of experiments you could do with computers on Mewni. The two of you meander over to the corner chairs with Marco still chatting quietly but aimlessly and you nodding along when appropriate, until the conversation lulls and you can justify opening your book for a little bit of reading. 

“Hey, Star?”

You look quizzically to Marco.

“I don't mean to be rude.” He probably doesn't, you think, if you’ve learned anything about human faces. It isn't just words like it is when Mewmans in court say it to each other. That's...nice. “And I'm sorry….but what are you, again? What’s your species called.”

“I am half-Septarian.”

“Okay, half-Septarian. Septarian. What does that mean?”

There are whole essays about what it means to be Septarian. Even after learning about so many ideas and philosophies and theories, it would take you a few days to compose something coherent about all you know about your race and what you are. You’re not really sure what he’s asking specifically, but he might as well see the most important thing about who and what you are. Regeneration. Without looking up from your book you go ahead and bite off your thumb the way Papa did when he showed you the first time. Marco shrieks. 

“That's, you, that’s not--”

You swallow it easily. “Relax. It’ll grow back.”

“Did you just eat it?!”

“Yes. It's very important to make sure all the spare pieces get burnt or eaten or whatever. Papa says if I leave it around, it will start growing another me. It only takes a few months even with something as small as a finger. Check it out.” You hold your hand up just in time for him to watch a new thumb spring out of the bloody hole. “See? Grows right back. That’s what being Septarian means.”

“I….have to go.”

“Is school over?”

“It will be in, uh, in a few minutes. Shit. Just take your book to that desk, say you’re the new student, and the lady behind the counter will help you. The bell is gonna ring and you can go to the office because I really have to go.”

“Oh. Thank you for showing me the school.” Not sure what to do, you try a smile and regret it when Marco flinches away. 

“You have, uh, you have….”

Blood on your teeth. Right. Your tongue flicks surreptitiously over your top teeth, but it’s too late. Marco is speed-walking away. Apparently the cloying fear you smell still isn’t enough to make him run inside the school. Huh. He really is the safe kid.

\----------

Be Marco, and also, freak the fuck out.

So showing Star around was going alright, right? She likes the school so far. You didn’t have the heart to tell her your school is actually a steaming pile of garbage dressed up as a place of learning, she was so excited about the classrooms and books. Not even Miss Skullnick’s awful droning about the specifics of geometry can distract her from taking rapid notes on any and every possible thing. Her curiosity dampens a little at lunch (it’s mystery meat patty day) but you’re spared worrying about a lunch account or lunch number for her when she pulls a little tin lunchbox out of her backpack.

“Oh, okay. You’re a home-lunch kid. Good.”

Star cocks her head just like her dad did the first time he saw you, with the same too-amused curiosity. “I thought that was normal. Papa says American school lunches are disgusting.”

“He’s not wrong.” Mystery meat patty day. That’s all there really is to say about the matter. “I gotta go get in line though. Do you want to stay here, or come see the lunch line with me?”

“I’ll come with you. Please.”

“Sure. Come on, I’ll introduce you to my friends.”

Like you said, things were going fine. Ferguson made a few Reptoid jokes, asked if her dad was running for president. Other than that? Everything was fine. Star was even excited to see the library.

And then, while you were in the library, she bit her own finger off and ate it.

Ate. It.

Freaked out is an understatement. You have never in the history of ever, ever in your life been this (and you don’t swear much, but) FUCKED UP. And then she GREW IT BACK.

That’s enough for you to deal with today, thank you very much, so you tell her to go to the office when the bell rings because no one said where to take her after school and then LEAVE. You walk right out the front doors of the school even though there’s five minutes left in the day. What are you willing to deal with today? Not this. You’re so panicked you don’t even walk home, you walk to the park a block from the school and sit on the swings for an hour until the elementary school lets out and the kids want their swings back. 

“I’m having a crisis!” You yell to no one in particular. Now the kids are staring at you. You should go, Marco, you’re making a scene and it’s probably only a matter of time before some parent calls the police on you for loitering. 

Stupid fucking suburbs. Stupid fucking playground. Stupid fucking scary lizard girl, who probably didn’t mean to scare you in the first place and is now probably by herself at the school and really confused. Stupid fucking you. For someone who never so much as says fuck out loud, you’re saying it a lot today. You blame stress.

“High schools should have swings.” You mumble to yourself. “Stupid fucking high school.”

It all comes down to high school. Or you. Fuck. 

Now that you’re thinking about Star potentially still being alone at the school, you’re starting to feel bad. It’s not like she was trying to scare you, probably. If she’s used to that being normal, then she was probably really confused when you ran off. She told you autocannibalism was normal for Septarians. And then you ran away.

So you walk back to school before you go home, to make sure Star isn’t waiting around somewhere because she couldn’t find the office or somebody decided to lynch her because you weren’t there to explain who she was or where she came from. That was really stupid of you. Then again, none of your classmates could actually hurt her. You hope.

Thankfully, you don’t find an angry mob at the school. Star isn’t even there. You do a circle around the campus, peek in the office windows, even sneak a look into the library. There’s no sign of her.

Well, you tried. Now all there is to do is go home, maybe get some homework done, and do your exercises for karate. Wrong, Diaz! Because when you get home, Star and her terrifying dad are on the couch opposite your very soft, very human, very not-regenerating parents. 

“Star!”

She looks up just in time to see you trip on the loose entryway rug and fall on your face like an idiot. Stupid fucking rug.

“Marco! Hi.” She settles a little more into the couch while you get up. “Hi. I’m sorry I scared you.”

“What? No! You didn’t,” Well, she did, so. What are you even saying. “It’s cool! But what are you…?”

“...Doing here?”

Star and her dad are staying with your family. You aren’t sure if you should be excited, since she’s definitely the most interesting transfer student to ever stay with you, or nervous. Because. You know. She’s an invincible space lizard princess and her terrifying dad is staying here too.

“Marco!” Your mother smiles at you brightly, completely unaware of how uncomfortable you are. “These are the Uhlayiss’. Isn’t that a cool name? So foreign! Mr. Uhlayiss says they’re from another dimension.”

“Please, Miss Angie. Toffee will do.” 

“Sorry! I’m just so excited--Toffee says they’re from another dimension. They’re going to be staying with us for a while! Star here even goes to your school. Did you meet her today?”

“Uh, yeah, I did.” You need a way out of this. How can you get out of this room as quickly as possible without Mr. Star’s Dad’s alligator jaws meeting your neck? Your parents wouldn’t let him eat you, right? Right?

“Why don’t you show Star here to her room while we get to know Mr. Toffee a bit better?”

“Yeah, sure, uh, sounds great.” 

You really hoped there would be a little more reasonable discussion about how this was going to happen or if it would happen at all, but there’s a treasure chest just like the one you saw earlier at the end of your couch. There’s enough money there for Mom and Dad to pay off the mortgage and the car. That’s probably why you don’t get to debate about it.

Though she looks about as nervous as you feel, a little prodding from her dad gets Star on her feet and following you with a very quiet “thank you” to your mom on the way past. She follows you quietly up the stairs.

“We only have one spare room.”

“That’s fine. I’m sure it’s very nice. Are there windows?”

“...Yeah. Of course there are.” Do people even build bedrooms without windows? “You’ll have a view of the street. It’s right next to my room, but all I see is the backyard.”

When you open the door and present the modest-but-comfortable spare room, Star is delighted. She bounces through the door to land on the bed, giggling when it bounces under her before she springs off it to investigate the closet.  
“What’s this for?” She asks, already standing inside it.

“Oh, it’s...a closet. For storing clothes.”

“Oh! And this?”

“It’s a shoe rack. For shoes.”

“This is so cool.” She whispers, whirling around to look at the whole room. “It’s so cool!”

“I mean, it’s okay…”

“So. Cool. I mean--it’s very nice.” Star straightens up quickly, and the glimmer of childish excitement subdues back to her usual too-formal posture. It’s kind of cute how she draws her tail up around her feet like a cat. “It’s a very nice room. Thank you.”

“Yeah. Sure. I’m sorry it’s the only one. Is your dad staying here, too?”

“Mmhm. We want to stay together. That’s why we came to Earth. It will be temporary, until we can find a more permanent place to live. We don’t want to impose. If it’s alright with your parents, I could try to magically resize the room...but I don’t want to mess it up,” She adds, looking down at the wand (is that a wand?) in her hand. “Since I’m new at magic.”

“You can do magic?” She can do MAGIC?

That’s it. This is officially the weirdest day of your life, now and forevermore. She’s a magic space lizard princess.

“Theoretically. I don’t have a lot of practice. But there might be a spell I could use...after I practice some more.”

At least she’s being careful about her magic, whatever it is. “But there could be a spell or something though, right? It would be weird to share a room with your dad.”

“...Why would that be weird?”

“Well, you know, just privacy stuff?” God, you’re not really sure how to explain this. “Maybe it’s different in your dimension. On Earth, teenagers don't usually share a room with their parents, I guess. Nobody I know does it.”

“Oh. Well, I don't mind. We always sleep in the same room. Hey, who is that?”

There’s a really big frog in the tree next to Star’s new bedroom window.

“Whoa, what--”

“There are monsters on Earth?!” Star runs to the window, taps on it to get the giant frog’s attention, and waves excitedly when she catches his eyes. “Oh, wait!”

But the frog, panicking, takes out a little pair of shiny scissors and snips a whole in the air next to him. The glowing portal hangs there for a moment after he’s gone, then disappears just as quickly as the frog man did. 

Things are getting weirder and weirder. You turn to Star (like you think she’ll give you some context) but all you see is the tip of her tail vanishing around the corner of the doorframe.

“Hey, Star! Wait!”

You run down the stairs after her, right to the front door she flung open and didn’t close after her.

“Going for a walk!” You yell back into the house, hoping Mr. Star’s Dad won’t give chase. “Be back soon!”


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ludo is incompetent and Star likes a boy. Don't tell dad. He's already pissed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, lovelies! Thank you so much for bookmarks, and a comment!! A whole comment!!! I love comments. Hope you enjoy, and sorry for the rating rise. The more I write Toffee, the more I see why he probably spent so much time off-screen. Ya boi is not a kid-friendly character. He eats people, probably.

Be Star.

You’re really getting tired of this fool’s hamfisted attempts to steal your wand. After accidentally turning your math teacher into a troll with a mangled soul-mate spell (which actually worked very well, thank you, never mind that silly woman’s bawling. Who doesn't want super strength and centuries of extra life?) you had to chase her into the backyard and trip over a monster minion. Again.

It's that damn Kappa, that scraggly little runt, the one you met after chasing the monster outside your window and down the street because you didn’t see him make a portal before he disappeared. You slap his closest minion with your tail and send him flying, then skid over to square up next to your best friend. You might not be confident with magic yet, but your dad made sure you’re good at hitting things.

“You shouldn't come to my house.” You tell the Kappa in your most serious, adult voice. “It isn't polite to show up uninvited.”

“How can I ever catch you at your worst and most distracted if I wait for an invitation?!”

“....That you think I am distracted is...funny.” Tilt your head slightly, as though to look at him from a new angle, and he still makes no sense. “I’m not.”

“What?!”

“I’m not. Distracted.”

“You look pretty distracted.” One of his minions says. “Boss, I think she looks distracted.”

“You know, monster-on-monster violence is one of the reasons mewmans think we’re animals. You’re exacerbating the problem every time you harass me.” 

“....Oh. WHAT’S THAT OVER THERE?!”

There is nothing behind you. You know that, and still look, so a monster can bum-rush you and get tailslapped in the face for thinking you wouldn't notice. They’re all useless. Tall and muscly, but so painfully slow and telegraphing attacks so bad you could probably see them from space. 

And then your pitiful math teacher follows them after their crushing, nearly-magicless defeat, because she likes one of the muscle-y guys in Ludo’s crew.

“My soulmate spell is working better than she expected.” Is all you tell the class after teleporting back to school and people start asking where your teacher is. “Marco helped.”

Of course your teacher, whatever her name is, doesn't make proper use of your spell. Perhaps she should try a bit more patience. Learning a language. Must you do everything yourself? The students congratulating Marco all disperse lightning-quick. He looks disappointed. Oh, that’s not good. That’s not what you wanted.

“I’m….sorry, Marco.” You scooch a little closer in your chair so you can talk quietly. The whole class is busy grumbling and ignoring Marco, which makes you mad, but at least no one is paying attention to you. 

“Are you kidding? That's the first time Jackie even talked to me!” His disappointment breaks into a big smile. “Thanks, Star!”

“You’re welcome. Now please, please help me clean up the yard when we get back.”

“...Why?” 

“My dad is...really protective of me. Naturally. So if he, ah, knew about the monster-fighting…”

“Right. Yeah.” He looks down at his paper worriedly. “Okay. They’re trying to steal your wand and all, but your dad would probably, like, eat them.”

“Or something like that. Kappas are notoriously gross-tasting. But you’re right. They aren’t evil, just kind of funny. They don’t deserve to die for being funny. It’s better my dad doesn’t know.”

\----------

After your disastrous first day of school and accidental “body horror (Marco’s word),” you think you’re probably doing better at not scaring everyone (including Marco) away from you and the school in general. It's been a week since you bit off any of your fingers and Marco says that’s really for the best. You attract enough attention as it is. People spent all week just plain staring at your face and nervous-twitching tail, in class or not. This is a place of learning, you want to tell them, they really should pay attention to the teachers! Marco warns you that won’t go over well. Even if you’re right. Especially if you’re right. People hate being told things they don’t want to hear.

It’s really hard to think critically about yourself when it’s just you, your dad, and odd guards roaming the halls outside. You never thought you looked weird before. Having scales and slitted yellow eyes is normal. It’s the same face you’ve seen in the mirror for the last thirteen years and, more importantly, one of the only two faces you really know. When people stare you feel this bad, stomach-churning feeling, like your guts are flip-flopping around because they can’t get comfortable under your skin. So far, Marco and his two best friends are the only people who talk to you at all. Marco is the only one who goes out of his way to talk to you.

You always feel better when Marco is around. He’s the only one at school who really doesn’t stare. Sure, he’ll look at you when you’re talking or he’s talking to you, or when he’s showing you something and making sure you’re having fun, but it’s not staring. He does still stare at Papa, but you think it has less to do with thinking he looks weird and more to do with being scared of him and wanting to know where he is at all times. That probably makes Papa happy.

Being stared at because people are scared of you does not make you happy.

“You are a predator, and they are prey.” Is what your dad tells you. “They shouldn’t feel comfortable around you. You are better than them, and they know that. Be proud.”

The week goes on, and finishes. Marco, Ferguson, and Alphonso are the only people who talk to you. Next time people are openly staring, you try to keep your dad’s advice in mind. It doesn’t really help. You don’t feel better than them. Snooty Brittany Wong and her friends start laughing whenever you walk past. She points at your tail. They’re talking about you, and you only make out one word.

Ugly.

Your chest hurts. No one has ever called you ugly before. Even though you knew they were saying it, it was different because it was abstract. Mewmans call monsters ugly, you know that, but hearing someone say it to your face? Tears sting your eyes. You run to first period. At least your scales can’t flush, no one can even tell you’re upset.

\----------

“So...help me work this out.” Marco paces back and forth, back and forth, back and forth in front of your desk. His silhouette flickers over your reading assignment every few seconds. “Something you said to Ludo….really got me thinking. You’re the crowned princess, but you’re half monster?”

“Right.”

“You’re a Septarian.”

“Mmhm.” While you don't look up from the homework, you appreciate that he remembered. 

“And you can regrow...anything?”

“That's right. I think.”

“Oh.” Marco frowns while he paces. You hear it in his voice. “Is that magic, or your biology?”

“Just biology, I think, but the research on our regeneration was lost when Queen Solaria razed Septarsis during the Second War. I guess our race has some inherent magic ability, but I don’t think that’s what it is.”

“That's pretty crazy. But you have to destroy the pieces, or you get a twin?”

“Yep!”

“How fast can you grow stuff back?”

You actually look up while you’re thinking about that. “I've only ever done a finger, for practice.”

“You have to practice it?”

“Yeah, or it takes forever. It used to take a whole day for one finger, but my dad can grow his whole arm back in less than a minute. It's all about practice.”

“....And does your dad, uh, have a lot of practice? Regrowing his arms. I mean.”

“Yeah.” You stop reading for a second to chew pensively on the end of your pen. “Loads of practice, I guess, but mostly with his tail. If you pull on it too much, it just comes right off.”

“Like a lizard?”

He gets your best “not impressed” look for that.

“Like a Septarian, Marco. Jeez.”

“Okay, sure. Got it.” He says, while obviously not getting it at all. “Next question. Why does your dad have so much practice growing his limbs back?”

“Oh, that's easy! Septarsis was known for being really cutthroat about their families and their reputations, and he was a lawyer. If he won a case against someone really rich or important, they always tried to hurt him later.” 

“Oh.”

“Don't look so worried. He always got away.” You kick your legs happily under the table, and catch yourself doodling your dad in the margins of your book. This is why you should use a pencil instead of pen. Either your dad will tell you to stop doodling, or he’ll take the homework and frame your doodles. Dads. “Then he was a general in the Monster Army. King Seth sent him to report on the Archduke, but he was in a lot of major battles with his men.”

“And the Queen of Mewni married him?”

Your lips snap into a tight line, all your interest in the conversation compacting down into a marble of upset in your stomach. “No.”

“....Sorry. That was stupid. But your mom is, uh, the Queen?”

“No. Yes.” Not that you want to say it. “Genetically.” 

“How did they even meet?” He asks, not getting the hint.

“I don't want to talk about this anymore, okay?” Never mind that you still don't actually know how you exist, since your parents hate each other. You have your suspicions, but they’re really upsetting and you don’t want to be right. “Stop it.”

“Okay. Right.” Sheepish, he fiddles with his hoodie pockets. 

“Don’t bring it up again. Ever.”

“Yeah. Sorry.” He wilts in place. “I, sorry. But for real. You're a magic half-Septarian princess and your dad is an immortal battle-lawyer?”

“Intelligence is always your best weapon.” You tell him on reflex. It’s one of those things Papa is always saying, and you really think it’s right. That’s probably why Ludo can’t defeat you, even though he’s a grown man. Probably. “Earth lawyers don’t go to battle? Weird. But yeah, you’ve got it. Magic lizard princess, indestructible lizard lawyer, and the evil, racist Queen mother who killed my extended family and locked us up in the dungeon for my whole life until now. We’re one happy family, Marco. Really.”

At least he isn't pacing anymore. He sits down opposite you at the desk, looking seriously upset and seriously like he wants to talk about it even more than you don't want to talk about it. But he doesn't say anything. He just looks at you for a really long minute before he says anything else.

“Did you really grow up in a dungeon?”

“Yes.”

“Whoa. So living on Earth is first time you could go outside.”

“No. I visited the Royal Gardens before we left Mewni.” Pretty, roses are so pretty. Even if they made you sneeze. “I had a week of lessons before I left, but I had to wear a glamour the whole time. No one in Mewni is allowed to know I’m not a full mewman, or they won’t support the Queen anymore.” 

“...That's rough.”

You don't want to think about it anymore. Going from being a prisoner who grew up in one room to a princess learning how to be in charge of a whole world in two weeks is? Too much. You’re thirteen and you know it’s way too much for you to even start dealing with right now. So you do the only reasonable thing you can do when it feels like everything is getting too big and you’re getting lost. You crawl under your desk. 

“...Hey, Star?” Marco leans over the top of your desk, upside-down with his head level with yours. “Are you okay?”

“Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well, you’re hiding under your desk…”

“I’m not hiding.”

“Are so.”

“Am not.”

“Are so.”

“Am not! A Uhlayiss never runs away and hides.” You cross your arms stubbornly. “We just strategically regroup. Sometimes, under desks.”

“...Right. Sorry I upset you, though.”

“You didn’t upset me, don’t be ridiculous.”

“You’re hiding under your desk.” Marco tries to get to the floor next to you gracefully, but slips halfway down and lands on his face, which makes you laugh. Just a little. His indignant look is even funnier. 

“Strategically regrouping.” You giggle. “It’s a valuable tactical move.”

He sits up clumsily, right-side-up once more. “Seriously, though. I’m sorry. It was a stupid question. I didn’t realize…”

“What about you?”

“Huh?” Marco frowns. “What do you mean?”

“Are your parents your parents?”

“Yeah, of course. They got married right out of high school, and had me a year later. They’re the best. Nobody’s nicer than my mom, except maybe my dad. They really like you,” He adds, leaning against your desk. “My mom thinks you’re really pretty.”

“...Really?”

“For sure. She pointed out how your scales are glittery in the sunlight, which I didn’t notice but is really cool.”

“She told me she always wanted cool eyes when she was younger.”

“Yeah, my mom was into the grunge scene for a while, I think. Stuff like that was really hot. It’s still pretty hot, now that I think about it. Really anime.”

You frown. “An-ee-may?”

“Anime. It’s a cartoon thing, from a country across the world. Japan. They have a lot of cool stuff, and they make a lot of video game stuff over there.” Marco perks up where he sits, and you can practically see the cartoon lightbulb over his head. “You know what? There’s a bunch of anime on Netflix. If you uh, if you’re done with your strategic retreat...we could go watch some. I’ll show you Naruto. It’s about magic ninjas. They used to play it on tv, but like, only the first season. We could watch all the seasons now, if you like it.”

“....Will you make the triangle food?”

“Nachos? Hell yeah.”

So when your dad comes home from the library, he finds you bundled up on the couch next to Marco, watching Naruto and his friends fight a guy-girl who does mirror magic. Cool. This is your new favorite way to spend a Saturday, even if this is your first Saturday ever. This is the best.

\----------

Somehow, you go almost another whole week before Papa finds out about the Ludo business. It doesn’t go how you expected at all.

You’re already having a terrible day. It's probably not as bad as Marco’s day was when he missed the bus, fell into garbage, and then got his school picture taken while covered in said garbage. That's way worse than some dumb idiot boy who lives in a garbage car and plays a toy instrument not calling you. 

Ugh. You aren't mad at all. Why would you be? Stupid, dirty mortal with shaggy, just-right hair and stupid ocean-blue eyes you could drown in. Ugh. You’re too good to sulk over the likes of him! Oskar is a dumb name anyway, even if he’s the only boy in the whole school other than Marco who doesn’t just stare at you all the time. He even smiled at you when you walked past his car the other day. How stupid.

But Marco (your dear, sweet Marco) decided to cheer you up with a good old fashioned battle. It worked really well! Or uh, it worked really well until your dad came home from the library early, just in time to see the lobster-thing throw a sloppy claw-punch at you that barely missed and still sent you toppling backwards off-balance.

“Hey, Marco! We have a problem!”

“You mean, other than the monsters trying to beat us up?”

“Yeah!” You spin on your heel to throw a spell at muscles-and-antlers. “ULCUS!”

Bright red, weeping sores surface on his skin and send him screaming away from you. 

“Freeze!”

The giant chicken monster is frozen mid-kick. You sling a colorful fist out of your wand to knock the others back, just as your dad wanders out the back door with a newspaper and a cup of coffee. He sits down in one of the patio chairs like he doesn’t notice the battle at all.

All the monsters go silent, of course. Papa doesn’t even have to look at them for them to know they really shouldn’t be here. It’s kind of funny. You already knew Septarians were once a Big Deal in the monster community. No one wants to pick fights with the guy who can grow his whole body back if so much as one flake of skin or one bone with marrow is undamaged. Why he’s even bothering you, a regenerating magician-in-training and twice the threat of a normal Septarian, is beyond you, if your dad makes them all pee while he’s not even fighting.

“Gentlemen.” Papa doesn’t so much as look up from his reading to acknowledge them. Your dad is so cool. One day, you want to be as cool as he is in this very moment.

Ludo, of course, breaks the suffocating silence.

“That isn't a lizard, Buff Frog. That,” He seethes. “IS A SEPTARIAN!”

Buff Frog, the frog-fish who’s been spying on you, is white with fear. 

“HE’S A SEPTARIAN!” Ludo screeches at his men. “THE GIRL IS SEPTARIAN!”

A fearful murmur goes up around the monsters, but none of them dare move now that Papa has settled in. Beardeer finally raises his ulcerated hand as your dad looks up from his paper to the scene happening in the grass.

“...Seriously?” Papa asks. Apparently his disdain sounds like an invitation to talk, because Beardeer still asks his question. 

“What’s a Septarian?” More whispers rise as he speaks. “Boss?”

Ludo kicks furiously at the dirt as he speaks. “A SEPTARIAN! It’s, they’re, well--you’re too simple to understand it anyways, why should I waste my time!”

“Oh, I see.” Your dad waves his unscathed hand at them dismissively. “You’re all fools. Go on. My hatchling can handle you.”

And if this tense moment wasn’t enough, your compact starts ringing in your pocket. You silence it as fast as possible before you kick one of the newly invigorated monsters in the throat. Whoever it was will just have to wait until you’re done showing your dad how good you are at kicking these monsters’ butts.

“Well done.” He says, after Ludo retreats. Well done! “Mind your tail in combat. It isn’t a concern with those simpletons, but most enemies will try to pin you.”

“Yes, Papa.”

“That’s my hatchling. And Marco?”

Your best friend looks up nervously from the ground, but he doesn’t have to be so nervous! Papa looks him over approvingly. 

“What a fascinating human fighting style. Very impressive, for your age. I had no idea you were so well-prepared for combat.”

“It’s, uh, karate, sir. Thank you.”

“How fortunate, yes...if you would like, you are welcome to train further with Star and I. There are some techniques specific to fighting monstrous opponents.”

“...Yes, sir. I’d like that. Thank you.”

Giddy now, Marco follows you into the house. He doesn’t say anything until the door closes, but you can all but feel him vibrating with praise.

“Did you hear that? I can train with you!!” 

“Are you excited?”

“YES! Why wouldn’t I be? I learned to fight in a strip-mall dojo, but your dad thinks I’m good enough to train with a literal general of an actual army?! Was he serious?!”

“Definitely.” You nab two bottled waters from the fridge and perch on one of the bar stools to drink one. Combat makes you so thirsty. You toss the second one at Marco who, in his excitement, doesn’t notice it until it hits him in the side of the head. “Oops. You should work on your reflexes.”

“I’m not even mad! I can work on my reflexes, with you!”

Marco chucks a snack bar at you, probably thinking you wouldn’t notice or grab it because both your hands are employed with drinking water and fishing your phone out of your pocket. Surprise! You catch it with your tail. Your best friend groans.

“That’s going to be a thing, isn’t it?”

“Keep trying. It’s good practice. Oh.” With your compact in hand, you get a chance to check the call you missed during combat while he chatters about having a tail. “Marco?”

“--had a tail, that would be so cool! Is it like having another arm? Can you give me a tail with magic? I could--”

“Marco!”

“Huh?”

“Oskar called me.” You can feel the blush in your cheeks, even if it doesn’t show through your scales. “And yeah. Having a tail is cool.”

“..........Call him back!” Marco jumps up on the stool next to you, a little less graceful than you did but he catches himself on the counter. “Star! Call him back!”

“Do you think he knows it’s my number?”

“You wrote your name on the sticky note. He probably knows how to read.”

“He probably doesn’t even know who I am, that’s what.”

“Hey, Star? Everybody at school knows who you are. Even Oskar. Call him.” Marco pokes your shoulder imperiously. “Tell him you were busy fighting monsters. Just play it cool, don’t let him know you’re excited.”

“Why not?”

“...You know what, I don’t know. That’s just what everyone says. It’s probably okay to be excited, just call him back.”

“Okay, okay. Calling him.” You press “call” and put the phone to your ear. “Oh! It’s ringing at me! What do I do?”

“It’s just connecting, calm down. I’m sure he’ll--”

“Hello?” The phone says. It’s….it’s Oskar. You raise a frantic hand at Marco for him to shut up. 

“H-Hi, Oskar. This is. Ahem. Star, from school.”

“Oh. Hey, Star From School.”

“Hi.” 

“Ask him on a date.” Marco hisses. You smack a hand over his mouth, listening to your crush exist on the other end of the line. Technology is a marvel.

“....Do you wanna get pizza sometime?” You get out.

“Huh? Sure. Tell me when.”

“Okay.” Oh no, you’re going to faint. “Well...bye.”

“Bye.”

\----------

You are Toffee, and you are going to have words with the man who dared harass your precious little girl.

Castle Avarius is as familiar as it is deeply unpleasant. You have always hated this place. A grand palace once a testament to monster ingenuity and pride, reduced to a playhouse for lackwit simulacrum monsters. This is by no means a new opinion of yours. Though the absurdity of Ludo presiding over the castle leaves a sour taste in your mouth. Lord Avarius, at the very least, was not so childish nor so single-minded. Ludo left his fucking key in the front door. Outside. 

It has to be a trap, right? No one is that stupid. It will no doubt ignite the moment you touch it, or cement itself to your hand. This may not be the true front door. Perhaps his impossible stupidity is only a front, a facade to woo his enemies into a false sense of security, and--

The door opens when you turn the key. You feel no traces of magic, monster or otherwise. Not so much as an alarm. No one has renewed the protection charms built into the doors in at least a decade, nor those on the path to the main hall. If not for the faint, tinny radio music coming from a nearby servant’s building, the estate would be a mausoleum. Nothing is maintained, nothing spared from the destructive children who have stolen this historical marvel. You next few steps are tentative. This may all be set-up to a deeply unpleasant trap. That is, after all, something you would orchestrate. You do not intend to make a spectacle of yourself by forgoing appropriate caution. It is not until you reach the door to the main hall, step inside, and close the door behind you that you relax.

What a fucking idiot.

He’s defenseless, save for the mountain his castle is perched on. Utterly baffling. Though it wasn’t your original intent in coming here, you’re tempted to kill him for the gall of it if no other reason. This can’t be reality. How does he survive?

Still, you slink through the castle, looking for your prey. He isn’t difficult to find. Ludo and his minions are all in the dining hall, all making far too much noise for a defenseless group of fools. None of them have even noticed your presence. 

How inconvenient. You clear your throat. “Ludo. Just the man I need to see.”

Silence falls over the previously-noisy group. As it should. Only Ludo looks pleased to see you, as all his other minions take a collective step back. As they should. The damn Kappa has no right to look so...tickled to see you. Most disturbing. 

“An audience, from one of my subjects?” He waves a concerned minion away, an oversized fly hovering nervously around his head like he’s been pulled into the gravitational orbit of it. “Leave us, all of you. That includes you, Boofly.”

“I don’t--”

“Leave us!” He shrieks, batting harmlessly at the retreating fly. Welcome to my castle, Star’s Dad.”

“It’s...charming.” Or once was. If one squints.

“Isn’t it? I redecorated myself, you know.”

“Ah, Castle Avarius.” You cast your eyes over the mouldering, roach-infested remains of a once-grand dining room. “Now breeding grounds, sure to be closely surveyed by any scientist looking to refute the theory of evolution by natural selection. How ever do you keep this unnatural marvel from being written about in scientific journals?”

This fool’s grandfather once held council here, made plans for the war, orchestrated assassinations and marriages alike from his lofty seat of power. Time, it seems, is the great equalizer. Enough years will make anything seem mythical--including this den of rotting fast food and empty Cold One bottles.

“There are people who want to write about me?!?!” Is all this over-grown chicken has to say in response to your scathing criticism. 

“No.”

“....But you just said--”

“Don’t worry. I am certain you will forget what I said in a few moments. One of your intellect must be very...selective in what they remember, no doubt.”

“Are you calling me smart?” And the nasty little thing waggles its eyebrows at you. “I had no idea you were so flattering, General. I would have taken my duty much more seriously.”

Disgusting. Abhorrent. Downright unconscientious. The things you do for your little princess. It’s all you can do for a moment not to put something over Ludo’s grotesquely oversized head and slip away to take a shower. Or three. If it would just stop looking at you.

“...I’m sure I couldn’t comment on that.”

“And so modest!”

If you were hoping for a bracing battle of wits, this disappointment to nature and the air it uses is completely unarmed. Use small words with this one, Toffee, very small words. Maim. Kill. Draw-and-quarter. Vore, if you must, though the thought of getting any closer to it leaves you nauseated.

“Come! Hang up your coat, have a seat. I will call for tea. BEARDEER!”

You place your coat very carefully on the back of the chair Ludo directs you to, doing a mental calculation of the fastest route to a dry-cleaning service from where you are sitting right this moment. The unfortunate creature your daughter cursed scurries into the room and right back out when Ludo screeches at him to bring tea.

“I know who you are, you know.” Ludo looks very pleased with himself as he takes his seat on a mountain of colorful pillows. “General Toffee. Aren’t you impressed? We’ve met before. Surely you remember me! I was a squire. Never far away from you.

“Lord Avarius sent you to serve. Yes. I recall.”

He hesitates. “You knew my parents?”

“Of course I do. I have stayed in this castle before.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“You did not exist then. Ah, a happier time.” Patience, Toffee. Control yourself. Think civil thoughts. “Your father was a child when I signed a treaty of good faith, on behalf of Septarsis’ remaining leadership. Your father grew up to disdain our kind. Unwise. Now, he lives in a shack, and has no allies left to assist him save the current Queen. She cannot, as you might imagine, sully her hands with monster politics.”

“Queen Moon has always been very pleasant to me.”

“Of course she has. That is not, however, what I am here to discuss. Do you have children, Ludo?”

“....Children?”

“No, I suppose that was too much to hope for, you repulsive manchild.” Did you say that out loud? Of course not. Though it isn’t likely this ugly, stunted little thing is intelligent enough to make out what you said. Your non-existent patience for this is fast running out, faster the longer you sit in this filthy chair. “So I will get...straight to the point. This is a courtesy visit. You may continue to pursue the Butterfly wand, and I will not stop you. So long as my daughter is unharmed, and you are unsuccessful.”

“...Is that what this is about?” Ludo rubs his hands together slyly, as though he’s in on a secret. “You stole the Butterfly wand, didn’t you? You did! And you gave it to your daughter. Why would you do that?”

“My reasoning is my own.”

“Yes, yes, of course! But it doesn’t matter. I will get that wand, General Toffee. Not even you can stop me.” 

“Oh, I could. If I thought you were worth the effort. However.” You lean in closer, almost near enough to smell Ludo’s undoubtedly foul breath. “If you should, by some miracle, hurt my daughter, I will execute every one of your men while you watch, and then. I will. Skullfuck you to death.”

Ludo blinks dumbly at you. “........What’s--”

“I will put your eyes out, and fuck your empty eye-sockets until you are dead or I am satisfied. Whichever. Comes. Second.” You leave the table while he parses that out, and retrieve your coat. Negotiations are finished. You have a dry-cleaner to see. “Think about that very, very carefully. I’ll see myself out.”


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's go to a ball

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas everyone! Thank you to everyone who gave kudos, commented, or bookmarked, you are all heroes.

Be a very sleepy Star, curled up in your blankets next to your dad and looking forward to sleeping in for your second Earth Saturday--then wake up because the mirror fixed to your wall is ringing up a storm.

“Papa,” You groan, reaching out of your magnificently warm blanket cocoon to pat his side. “Papa.”

He mumbles something that sounds like “no” and buries his head under the pillow. 

“Papa…” More insistent now, you start poking his side.

“Mm.” 

“The mirror…”

He sighs, but sits up. From your nice, warm spot you can just barely see his sticky-uppy hair from trying to muffle you and the ringing mirror with his pillow. “Alright. Alright. I’m up.”

“Make it stooooooop.”

“I’m going.” He squishes down the opening of your cocoon, and you giggle. “Go back to sleep, sleepy girl. I’ll handle this.”

And you do try, but you can hear the Queen’s unpleasant voice just a few feet away, demanding to talk to you about some kind of event today you absolutely must attend. There’s something about bells, and meeting people, and then you’re drifting into sleep again right before Papa comes to wake you up for good.

\----------

Be Toffee.

Why Moon is calling you at eight o’ clock sharp is beyond your comprehension, pre-morning cup of coffee as you are. She rambles on about an important diplomatic event requiring your daughter while you focus on looking as alert as possible and your body tries desperately to go back to sleep standing up.

“...Toffee, are you listening it me?”

“It’s too early for this.” Ridiculous, clucking hen. “Yes, against my wishes, I am listening. You need my daughter to attend your tedious diplomatic event.”

“It is vital she represents the kingdom. There are already whispers regarding her absence at previous Silver Bell Balls. Some believe she doesn’t exist at all! My allies need to see her tonight, and on her best behavior.”

“Star is always on her best behavior.”

“This is absolutely crucial, Toffee.”

“I am absolutely serious.” You shoot back.

“Where is Princess Astera now? I should speak with her about this directly.”

“She’s asleep.”

“Wake her up! We only have a few short hours to prepare.”

“...Right. As you like, Your Majesty.” Your words are so laden with spite they practically drip from your lips. Insufferable woman. Star is mostly asleep when you scoop her out of bed, blankets and all. She chirps at you drowsily when you uncover her little face. “It’s time to wake up.”

“Nooooo…..”

“Please, sweetness. The Queen requires your attention.”

She murmurs a bit of nonsense, skinny arms hugging your neck for dear life when you carry her over to the mirror.

“Satisfied?” You ask Moon.

“She sleeps in...your bed?” 

“Of course she does. Don’t change the subject. Star,” You nuzzle the top of her head. “Stargirl, will you sit up for me?”

“Mmhmmm.” 

Your little hatchling blinks at you sleepily, but stretches out in your arms. When you set her down she stays standing, blankets pooling around her feet. She’s only wearing shorts to sleep in, as usual. As expected, Moon takes your daughter’s lack of sleeping clothes as a personal affront. You will never understand the nuances of mewman modesty, nor do you want to.

“Astera! Where are your clothes?!”

Still mostly asleep, Star snaps the waistband of her shorts as an answer. It’s all you can do to keep from snorting. Moon’s outrage is priceless.

“Those are underclothes, not pyjamas. We’ll have words about this, Toffee, when the Ball is done. Wouldn’t you like a brazier of some kind, Astera?”

“Star.” She grumbles. “I don’t have boobs, Your Majesty.”

“Oh.” Is all she can think to say, but her speechlessness is unfortunately temporary. “Well, certainly as you age--”

“Nope. Not unless I decide to be a broodmother. And that’s a whole process. Otherwise.” She smacks her chest and Moon actually flinches. “Nothing.”

“...Alright. Perhaps a high-necked gown will be best.”

“I’ll bring my own dress.”

“Have you kept up with your dancing lessons?”

“No.”

“Your etiquette lessons?”

“No.”

“....Your diplomacy lessons?”

“Memorizing kingdoms and royal families? Yes. I have.”

“That is something, at least. Come to the palace at once. If you use your scissors to come directly to my room, I can--”

“No, thank you. I can do it myself. When does the ball start?”

“At five o’ clock sharp, but--”

“Alright. Thank you.”  
Star hangs up on the Queen of Mewni with a look of carefully cultivated boredom you recognize well. When the mirror rings again, she simply walks away. She’s grown up so fast, you think, extremely pleased she froze Moon out. That will teach Moon to talk down to her.

“Do I have to go?” Star asks, still wearing her carefully crafted expression like a mask.

“Yes. Your contract demands it.”

She sighs, and the mask falls away. “Alright. But you have to come with me.”

“And how do you propose I do that?” Genuinely intrigued, you catch her eye for a moment and see the sly little smile on her lips while she skips off towards the closet.

“I wasn’t lying about the glamours.”

\----------

Be Star, at your very first party. 

Since Moon generously sends a carriage to pick you up, you arrive before the other guests so she can fuss over your clothes and hair if she needs to. She need not worry, though. Papa helped you get ready. The girl in the mirror across from you is a perfectly designed stranger. Only waving to her reminds you she’s your reflection and not another party-goer. You miss your real face, your scales and striking yellow eyes. Even your snubbed little snout. All you need is a moment to adjust the crown Moon gives you, and even she declares you ready.

“You look lovely.”

“I look prettier as myself.” 

At least she has the decency to look a little ashamed, even as this tiny, nasty little part of you agrees with her. Even though she’s strange, the girl in the mirror is pretty. No one at your school would call her ugly. She could just...be. Wouldn’t that be nice? You could just be.

The guilt is immediate, with a bolt of anger that straightens your spine. How dare these people make you feel ashamed of what you are! You are a predator, and they are prey. They shouldn’t be comfortable around you. Part of you wants to rip the glamour off and stride out onto the dance floor to greet other royal families with your real face. Only Papa’s hand on your shoulder stops you.

“Patience, princess.” He straightens your crown just a touch more, and tucks a stray hair back into your bun before kissing the top of your head. “I know it’s difficult. We should not have to hide.”

“I hate this.” You give the mirror-girl a harsh glare she echoes, before using your wand to turn the mirror matte and useless. Looking at your perfect copy is starting to make you feel sick.

“I hate to see you unhappy. What can I do for you, my dear?”

“If I have to hate this, can you make the Queen hate this too?”

“You don’t have to hate this. It’s all a matter of perspective. Right now, you are a monster forced into hiding. That isn’t all you can be. Be a spy.” He suggests. “We are monsters, and no one will ever know beyond the king and queen. Every one of those spoiled brats with dance with a monster, and they will all tell you the pleasure is theirs. Enjoy what power you have over this--and remember, should anyone find out, being polite will shame them. You may be called a monster, but no one can take away your grace and dignity. You are the only thing you can control--and you are worth a thousand of them.”

“...Do you really think so?”

Your dad grins down at you. “I know so.”

Dancing isn’t as bad as you thought it would be. More upsetting are the butterflies in your stomach as you look around at the other heirs--all looking at you. Of course, you’re the only stranger. They should think your glamour is pretty, at least. The girl next to you is just a horse head. Right. Princess Lilacia Ponyhead, crowned princess of the Ponyhead kingdom. You make a mental note to ask your dad what makes you a monster, and not her. A floating, dismembered head? Way creepier than your scales and tail.

“So you’re the princess erebody been talkin’ about!” Lilacia whisper-squeals. “Oh guuuurl, you look so good! You nervous? Lemme give you the scoop.”

The scoop turns out to be everyone’s names, and what the other girl thinks of them. Some are flattering, most are not. Most are not. She’s downright vicious about Princess Spiderbite and the weedy Kelpbottom prince.Who the hell lets their family name be “Kelpbottom,” anyways? 

“I’m Ponyhead, by the way. Don’t you call me that Lilacia bullshit.” Lilacia, er, Ponyhead, grins at you. “Now, you go by Astera?”

“Star, please.”

“Star! Ohmigod, that’s much better. I don’t know why they haven’t--oh, nope, that’s why.” She gestures to the empty seat in the line of princes. “Lucitor is late, again. Big shocker.”

“That’s a demon for you,” you mumble.

“...You got tea on demons? Cause it kinda sounds like you got tea on demons. Don’t be racist tho, kay? Cause I already like you. He’s basically half-monster, you should see his mom, but he’s charming as all hell. Get it? All hell.” 

You snort. “I’m not afraid of monsters, and I’m not racist. Don’t worry. My dad just told me a lot about the history of the underworld, and the difference between devils and demons. It’s just order versus chaos. Is King Lucitor really mewman?”

“Yeah? I mean, I think so.”

“Usually the Underworld is ruled by a demon and a devil, as a sign of equality. I guess they just decided mewmans are close enough to devils to count.”

It’s Pony’s turn to snort. “True enough. Hey, Star? You cool. We can hang. Do got a question for you, though.”

“A question?”

“Yeah. You for real get lessons from your parents?”

“Oh. Yes. Is that not normal?”

“Well...no, I mean, I don’t think? Cool, though. Oh, oh! Hear that?” There’s distant thunder outside the ballroom. “They’re here!”

“What?”

“Shh, shh, just listen! There’s another one. Boom!” She bounces in place as the sounds of thunder get louder, closer together, and then you realize the ground is shaking below you. It shakes and shakes, and you hear the pounding of hooves and carriage wheels for a few seconds before the door at the end of the room bursts open for a surprisingly small young man to step through.

Not that you get to call anyone small. He’s still taller than you, you notice, if skinnier. He’s also wearing sunglasses at night. They’re modified to cover all three of his eyes at once, which is kind of cool, even if you don’t know why he’s wearing them an hour after the sun went down. Marco has a word for that, but you can’t remember. What was…

“Douchebag!” You whisper. Pony loses her mind. 

“GURL SHHHH!” She stage-whispers as the prince is followed by one enormous, bright-red woman with a lot of eyes and a comically tiny, improbable clutch to match her tiny, improbable husband.

“Wrathmelior!” King River shouts as she steps over the other seated royalty to sit in the massive chair prepared for her as the King greets her husband. “Hey, Dave.”

It shouldn’t even be this funny, but you’re too stressed for this level of absurdity right now. Pony shushing you doesn’t help quiet down your nervous giggles. If anyone in the Lucitor family notices, they don’t show it. Queen Moon is glaring daggers at you, but you ignore her in favor of looking to your dad. Who is also fighting back laughter. At least you aren’t the only one here desensitized to the whole thing. He gives you a tiny wave, and you feel just a little better.

Most of the dancing in uneventful. Sure, it’s a little hard to keep your balance in this silly, too-full skirt that hides your tail, but a refresher course in dancing earlier today saves you from stepping on anyone’s feet and causing an incident. A few if the boys step on your feet, actually. Not that it matters to you. Kelpbottom is so nervous he ends the dance standing on your gown while Pony snickers in the background. The princesses are easier to dance with. Pony in particular is fun, with a lot more bouncing and shaking than anyone else that you find one part graceful and two parts hilarious. You feel bad for laughing until she pulls an outrageous face for you. She’s trying to make you laugh. Well, if nothing else good comes of tonight, at least you made a friend.

It isn’t until Prince Lucitor approaches you to dance that your night gets interesting. Pony is waggling her eyebrows at you as he approaches you with a sweeping bow you stand to receive.

“May I have this dance, Princess Astera?”

Thomas, you remind yourself. His name is Thomas. You curtsy in return. “I would be honored, Prince Thomas.”

“Please, that’s so formal. Call me Tom.” 

\----------

When you’ve finally danced with every royal heir, you retreat from the stale air and echoing conversations in the ballroom to get some much needed time in the gardens outside. It’s still hard to deal with all the space you have, sometimes, but being outside (despite the sky being so vast) calms you. Particularly if you’re alone. If you can get just a moment alone, you can go back inside and face everything still waiting for you.

Unfortunately for you, you're not alone. You hear his footsteps before he gets to you, refusing to turn around and ask “who’s there?” like you, the crowned princess, don’t have every right to be in the garden. Of course you can be in the gardens. For a moment you think it might be Papa, breaking the rules to make sure you’re alright, but Prince Tom comes to stand beside you instead.

“That’s a nice glamour spell.” Prince Tom says, breaking the tense second of silence.

“Thank you. I--I mean.” His words catch up to you just second too late. “What?.”

“Whatever it is can’t be that bad. Solid spellwork, though. I love a good glamour. Did you do it, or was it your mom?”

“I don’t have a mother.”

Oh, hell. 

“Really? ‘Cause it kind of seems like you do, and she’s the Queen of Mewni. 

“I mean, I--I got confused. I have a mother, don’t have a glamour.” You snap, then regret snapping at him because you’ve really given away that something’s off. Something, something, doth protest too much. You’re in serious trouble. “So I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t. You should show Princess Spiderbite how to do it. She would probably be a lot nicer if she didn’t have that huge lump on her face all the time.”

He’s probably right, but all you have the capacity to do right now is giggle nervously at his bad joke and pretend you didn’t blurt out what you just did like an idiot. “I can’t, ah, I don’t know any glamour spells.”

“Other than the one you’re wearing, right? Or did the Queen just put in on you? Her new guard is wearing one too, but it’s a lot stronger. Don’t worry,” He adds, waving off another volley of protesting. “I won’t tell anyone. My mom noticed it too. So...you’re illegitimate, right?”

“What?”

“Illegitimate.” He repeats patiently. “King River isn’t your dad.”

“...No.”

“No in which way? It’s okay, though. Everybody kind of suspects that, or at least that one of your parents isn’t actually your parent, since you’re just now being recognized. They probably thought they’d have a kid, right? But they didn’t, so they went and got you from wherever you were before now, and put a glamour on you in public so no one would know what you really look like. Are you really thirteen? Because you’re pretty small for thirteen.”

“I’m fourteen, Tom, not that it matters.”

“For real?” He asks, surprised. “Huh, no shit. My age. You’re tiny. So I guess the Queen had you before she got married. That’s not such a scandal. I wonder why you were such a big secret.”

“I’m really, actually, contractually not allowed to talk about this.” You’re careful to put extra weight in your words, even though you know it will make him more curious. Maybe you’re enjoying his curiosity, even if you can’t actually tell him anything.

Tom raises an eyebrow at you for that. “Did you make the contract, or them?”

“I asked for it, but my dad did most of the writing and negotiation.”

“That pokes a serious hole in my theory about that new guard being your real dad.”

“...I’m not allowed to comment on that. Please don’t tell anyone.”

Even as you say that, there’s a part of you that wants to tell him the whole truth. Not only are you illegitimate and not King River’s kid, oh no, but you’re the dreaded General Toffee’s little girl. You’re a monster, a revolutionary’s daughter, and the great Prince Lucitor danced with you longer than anyone else then talked to you in the gardens because your glamour tricked him. Even if it didn’t trick him well enough. You want to rip off the glamour and show him your real face.That would shut him up. He’d stop asking questions if you did that, but you wouldn’t live to enjoy his reaction. Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad, if you never have to wear this costume again.

“Hey, your secret’s safe with me, Starship. Lips are sealed.” Tom pats your shoulder reassuringly, mistaking your silence for fear. He pantomimes zipping his lips. “Don’t even worry about it. Lucitors are great at keeping secrets.”

“...You can still guess.” The words linger in the air like a tangible thing, too real for you to take back. “If you find out without anyone telling you, the contract is intact.”

His face lights up, eyes glowing figuratively and literally. “That almost sounds like an invitation.”

“Maybe it is.” Why should you have to lie about who you are to everyone? If even one person knew, maybe someone like Tom, then you know you would feel less removed from your own body at events like this. You look down at your hands and they belong to a stranger. 

“Has anyone ever told you the whole “dark and mysterious” thing you have going on is compelling? Because I find you...extremely compelling.”

You laugh. “For now.”

“See? There it is again. I’ve got secrets too, you know. Dark and mysterious secrets. Do you think I’m compelling? Wait. Don’t answer that. Just…” He slips you a small black card with a mirror code written out on the back. “Call me if you do, okay? We could go somewhere. Get a bite to eat.” 

“Are you asking me out, Prince Tom?”

“Maybe I am, Princess Astera. Give me a call sometimes.”

“Hey, Tom?” You call over your shoulder. He turns back to you with the same smirk he wore in the ballroom. “Call me Star.”

He retreats back into the ballroom, leaving you alone with the card and your thoughts. You should crumple the card up and throw it into the nearby rose bushes. This is definitely some kind of prank. You’ll call the number and your mirror will explode or something, or he’ll be there with friends to laugh at you for thinking he meant all the things he just said. In the end, you don’t throw the card away. When you return to the ballroom and Moon’s stern gaze from across the massive room, the card almost feels heavy in your pocket. But rebelling even a little bit feels so damn good.


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Star goes to fantasy Cosco, where all your dreams come true. Got a deal for you!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter, so I cut it in half. There's a lot to resolve here.

Be Star.

Magic lessons happen every evening. Most princesses have some idea of what to expect, or already know a few spells before they’re officially given the Book of Spells and the wand. Glossaryk often remarks that most princesses are excited to learn magic, a sentiment he repeats whenever your attention drifts from the spell he’s explaining. Most have been waiting for these lessons their entire lives.

“I only met you a month ago,” you remind him on a day your focus is particularly bad.

“Did you learn about magic from your father?”

“No, and yes. There were no wands, or spells to delete gravity, or forbidden chapters in the magic he told me about. But that was a really long time ago. He told me a lot about my grandmother and her magic.”

“Your paternal grandmother, I assume.”

“Yes.”

“Mother Miriam Uhlayiss.” The pages of his huge book flip on their own. You recognize the sunburst-bright pages written by Queen Solaria. “Did you know she’s in this book? Queen Solaria met her. She’s listed by name under the passage about fighting septarians. Solaria left space to write about septarian broodmothers, but never had the chance to write what she learned. Queenslaying runs in your family.”

You look curiously down at the small illustration next to your grandmother’s name. Mother Miriam, the picture is labelled with jagged writing. It looks as though the Queen was furious when she wrote her name, and all the text to follow it.

“I don’t want to read what she wrote. Why are you showing me this?”

“I’m curious, Star. What can you add in the space she left?” He drifts closer to you, upside down and perfectly comfortable with that. “What do you know about monster magic?”

“What kind of monster magic?” You shoot back. “Because it kind of seems like all the Queens who wrote in this book didn’t understand how many kinds of monsters there are. Three hundred and something years ago, this lady wrote two sentences about an entire nation and now it’s gospel for the ladies after her. Forget about Septarsis being full of a hundred cultures and languages and customs. We’re reduced to a few doodled nobility, all the same race, and some ideas about how to kill us so people with lots of land and money can get even more land and even more money. Why should I be excited to read this? I’m not even Septarian, did you know that? I’m Varanese. Since I wasn’t born to a broodmother, I have to be sworn to Septarsis by an official before I can call myself a citizen.”

“Fascinating.”

“My whole culture is fascinating! But this book? It’s written by people who would probably rather burn the whole thing than let someone like me read it anyways.” You look down at it with all the contempt you can muster. “Why should I be excited to learn the magic ancestry of Mewni when Queen Solaria stole a whole country worth of land from my people and massacred my ancestors to make that history possible?”

“...I don’t know, princess. Why should you?”

“I shouldn’t, and I’m not!”

“What else would you like to read? There aren’t any books like this by monsters.”

“That’s because Queen Comet burned them all when she razed Verspool!” You slam your fist on the table, temperature rising. “But I have to read her stupid recipes that she made with magic, and read all about how monsters can’t enjoy a good meal, so they’re lesser! Hey, Glossaryk? Monsters fought in the second war because they were starving!”

“Comet was my favorite student.”

“Then you have bad taste!”

“...Comet was my favorite student, because she was the first queen since Eclipsa to try negotiations. She was still wrong,” He adds, floating to something vaguely resembling ‘right-side-up’ as his tone grows more serious. “They all were. Queen Comet was born into this mess like every princess after Solaria. Not everyone knows as much as you do, princess. You can already dip down.”

“Dip down?”

“Dip down. You did it. I saw you! Dipped down.” He cups his hands, and dips them with his words. “You cast your first magic without the wand. Not everyone is as lucky as you.”

“...Lucky?”

“Lucky.” Glossaryk winks at you. “Sure, you grew up in a dungeon. Big deal. At least you’re not blind. That’s enough lesson for today, yep, quite enough--oh, but Star? You should probably charge your wand.”

\----------

After looking around the house for a good half an hour, you’re starting to get a little panicky. You just had your charger! It was down in the kitchen last night, you left it on the counter while you were helping Marco do dishes. Now the counter is empty, and you can’t imagine where it could be. Ms. Angie hasn’t seen it today. Mr. Raphael wasn’t in the kitchen at all last night, Papa wouldn’t bother it, and Marco doesn’t even remember seeing it on the counter at all. 

Another half-hour passes, and your wand is still dying. You’re beyond frustrated when you come back upstairs to talk to your teacher and ask if he’s seen it. How did he even know your wand was low?

“Glossaryk?”

The book is still in the corner, but your teacher is nowhere in sight. 

“Hey, Glossaryk?” Feeling rather foolish, you knock on the front of the book. “Glossaryk? Did you take my charger?”

No response.

“I know you can hear me.”

You knock again, but there’s still no sign of the little blue man. Ugh. This is what you get for losing your temper, Star. You insulted the little blue man’s book, and now he’s mad at you. He’s probably taken other inconvenient little odds and ends from your room. A quick glance around tells you everything’s where you left it. Mirror charger, yes. Hairbrush, yes. Backpack, yes, but you don’t have time to go through it again to see if anything else is missing aside from your charger. He’s definitely tied all your shoelaces together. That’s what he did the last time you annoyed him during a lesson. 

“I’m sorry I insulted your book?” You try, feeling even more foolish for talking to the book cover. “It’s got a lot of valuable information in it. I’ve just been thinking a lot about history, and everything that happened...which is what history is, I guess. I’m sorry for being unkind and impolite, and it won’t happen again.”

Despite your apology, there’s still no answer. Slightly worried, you try to open the Book of Spells and startle when it jumps away from you. Another grab is even less successful than the first. You try a third time and the whole book vanishes into thin air.

“Glossaryk?”

Either something is wrong, or he’s upset with you. Maybe you offended the book itself. Your wand chirps sadly in your hand, a reminder of why you came back up to your already-searched room in the first place. Charger first, you think, and then you can figure out what’s going on with the Book of Spells and it’s little blue resident.

“Papa?” You knock lightly on the study door and hear a quiet greeting. Papa is settled in the computer chair with a massive Earth Studies book. “Have you seen my charger?”

“Which charger, my dear?”

“My wand charger. It’s the little crystal heart, with a gold tip that goes in the end of the wand. Have you seen it anywhere?”

“Mm, it was on the kitchen island…”

“I looked there already. What are you reading?”

“A fascinating book about the American Civil War. Earth libraries are beyond all my expectations. They have a capitalist society, but the libraries are magnificent. You should come with me the next time I go. I’ve seen signs for hiring opportunities, you know. They have a program with your high school.”

“That does sound fun. But I really, really need my charger. Glossaryk says if it gets all the way to zero, then it’s dead forever.”

“Mmhm. How low is the battery?”

You take the wand out of your pocket and flip it over, growling at the red marks showing you just how low it is. How is it dropping? You aren’t using it! “Too low.”

“And you’ve looked everywhere?”

“Yes!”

“Will I go out into the kitchen and find it in the first few seconds of looking?”

“No! Papa, this is serious!”

“I know it is.” With a sigh, he looks up from his book. “If you need it right this moment, I recommend buying a spare. Quest Buy should have what you need.”

“Okay. What’s a Quest Buy?”

He laughs. “It’s a store, hatchling. Famous for having any and everything you could desire. Unfortunately for you, I have no idea where it is. I never buy in bulk. Perhaps you could call a friend from the Silver Bell Ball?”

“Oh. Yeah. I guess I could call Tom--”

“Not the Lucitor boy.” 

“...Why not?”

“Not the Lucitor boy,” He repeats, more sternly, putting his book down entirely. “His family is well-versed in magic, making encounters with him while you wear a glamour dangerous. And he is a boy.”

“I follow the first part, that’s true, but Marco is also a boy. He’s going to Quest Buy too. I also have one friend, and that friend is Marco.”

“Don’t make me laugh, darling. Marco is a well-mannered and entirely harmless young man. He is in another class entirely.”

You think back, with some guilt, to how excited and fluttery Tom made you feel when he was edging in on your secret. Marco doesn’t make you feel like that. Sure, you feel something--Marco is comforting, understanding, and your best (and only) friend. But it’s different. Besides, if Papa knew you were encouraging Tom to find out your secret, he would be furious. For good reason.

“I’ll call Princess Ponyhead, then. She was nice.”

“And excellent choice. I will give you my spare set of dimensional scissors. To Quest Buy, and straight back. Stay with Marco, and don’t talk to strangers that don’t work there.”

“Are you coming?”

“No. Angie and I are baking cupcakes for the PTA meeting this evening, and we intend to make a lasting impression. Eat your heart out, Barb.” He mutters. “In any event, I am certain you’ll be alright. You’re a bright girl. I have to let you do things on your own eventually. Get the charger quickly, come back, and I’m certain there will be leftover frosting.”

Leftover frosting. Mm. Two of your favorite words. You’ll have to hurry to the store and get back before Mr. Raphael gets home from work, or there won’t be any left. That’s enough motivation for you to give your dad a quick kiss on the cheek, take the scissors, and start deciding what you’ll say when you call Ponyhead.

That should be the end of it, but you pause in the doorway, panic about your wand taking the backseat as you remember your earlier conversation with Glossaryk. Something is still bothering you. 

“Papa?”

“Mmhm?”

“Do you ever regret killing Queen Comet?”

“No.” He says, without having to think about it. “I don’t. I would do it again, if the opportunity presented itself. She gave the order to raze Verspool, Star, the Great Library and the greatest universities in all of Mewni. Destruction of knowledge is thievery, and under her law that was punishable by death. I carried out her sentence. Nothing more.”

He doesn’t ask why you’re asking, or if you need to know something in particular. Even when speaking, he doesn’t look up from his book. Every word sounds rehearsed. For one terrible moment you’re upset with him and how set he is about everything, but you wave that away as hard as you can. Lock that up and throw away the key. Your dad is your one constant ally. It won’t help to argue with him too, especially with Glossaryk having one of his moods. 

Besides, you don’t just...argue with your dad. He’s been practicing his arguing since before Queen Comet was born, and people used to pay him to argue for them. If you wince a little at his cool, unbothered tone, well, that’s getting waved away too. You hold the dimensional scissors tightly as a reminder of what you should be doing right now. That’s right, you have to find this ‘Quest Buy.’

\----------

Twenty minutes and a call to Princess Ponyhead later, there are three teenagers on the edge of a formidable sword display. Marco snaps a picture. 

“Yas gurl, selfies!” Pony vogues for the camera when he turns it around to get everyone in your little charger-finding party. 

You frown as you survey the store. It’s impractically massive. Aisles and aisles of seemingly unrelated merchandise sprawl in every direction as far as you can see. “Okay. So if this is like Costco…” 

“What’s a Costco?” Pony, distracted from the selfies, touches down on your shoulder as you try to get your bearings. “That an earth thing? Costco. Next stop, mkay?”

Marco is already crouched beside a series of symbols down the side of one carved-stone shelf of products. At a glance there are helmets, swords, and a display of severed magical heads in jars. Creepy. And, as far as you know, completely unrelated. Marco seems to disagree.

“Okay, so...when was Quest Buy made?”

“This is my first time here.”

“That’s why I’m asking Ponyhead.” Marco stands again, looking thoughtful. “Pony? Hey, Pony!”

“What, Earthturd?”

“Don’t call me that, maybe, because that’s rude. When was Quest Buy built?”

“I dunno, a few thousand years ago? Something like that. Hey, look!” She takes off down the aisle. “Free samples!”

Marco groans. You come to stand next to him, in front of the odd pictographs he’s still frowning down at. There are a few recognizable symbols, though you don’t know where you recognize them from. There’s a moment of silence broken only by distant gryphon screeches and what might be a dragon roar. This store is totally Earth-based, right? Or maybe there are other dimensions with superstores way too big to be practical. 

“They’re definitely hieroglyphs, or something like them, but I don’t know if they’re based on Egyptian language or something else that happens to be similar. This is fascinating.”

Your wand chirps sadly in your pocket.

“Okay, so if it’s similar to something on Earth, then can you use the Google?”

“It’s just google, Star, not The Google. It’s a verb and a noun.” He says, already pulling out his phone. “I can try, but it’s ancient. It’s not like I can just type ‘bird, eye, two tree-ish things, slab’ and find out what’s going on here.”

“No, indeed you cannot.”

“Who said that?”

“Here, Princess.”

You jump at your title. How could the voice even know you’re a princess? There’s certainly nothing about your stretchy cotton skater dress and flats that suggests you’re royalty, even if you popped the glamour on before you called Ponyhead. You look like a normal mewman girl. Pony herself helped you cover your cheek hearts, just so no one would ask questions about them. 

“Down here,” the voice urges. It’s hardly a voice at all. Just a raspy whisper, the suggestion of words spoken through a wall of sand or, in this case, half a foot of water. You finally spot the culprit. “There you are.”

It’s one of the severed heads, but shoved in the back of the display as though to hide it. You crouch down and see why. Staring back at you through magic, green-tinged water-goo, is the decapitated head of a septarian-looking man. You think it’s a man, though it has no hair and no body to identify. It’s brightly colored, fleshy eyes with pinprick pupils swirling over your face. Seeing your face closer, it gives you a terrifying grin that makes the scales around its mouth peel back grotesquely from a gaping, toothless mouth. Somehow the gums scare you more than teeth could have.

Marco crouches next to you. “What’s--OH GOD!”

“Boo,” the head says, scales flashing bright red. Marco falls backwards on his butt.

“What IS that???”

“He’s a Septarian.” You dip your head respectfully to the head. “Greetings, elder.”

“Well-mannered girl.” One of his eyes twitches to your face, the other to Marco. “A credit to your nation, no doubt.”

“I’m not…”

“The glamour is skillful, yet there are gaps…” Both eyes swivel to you. “Yes, gaps. Chinks in your armor. They are not so difficult to see, if one knows how to look. Not so difficult at all. A young Varanese woman, the princess of Mewni. Quaint! Unexpected! Heretical.” The head adds, grinning its horrifying, toothless grin. You have to brace yourself against flinching away.

“You are...Chameleon, aren’t you?”

“Yes, very good.”

Marco leans in closer to you, pointedly looking away from the severed head. “Hey, Star? We should go. Now.”

“We can’t. He knows who I am.”

“Indeed I do.” 

“We can’t leave him here.”

“No, you cannot. But I suspect you need a guide.”

Both of you look at the severed head. It’s the only animated one on the bottom row. Surrounded by the glassy eyes and slackened jaws of other, less durable creatures, you feel a surge of pity for the odd creature. Even if it didn’t know your secret, you couldn’t just leave it here. This is a whole shelf of corpses. 

“I don’t think--”

“We do.” You say over Marco’s protests. “Do you know how to navigate the store?”

“I do.”

“Can you get us to the wand chargers?”

“Yes.”

“Then we’ll take you with us.” You pick the huge jar up carefully, not wanting to jostle its occupant. “Name your price.”

“Buy me. I want to leave this place.”

“Star, I really don’t think--”

“Deal.” You say, again over Marco’s protesting. “Welcome to the charger party, mister…?”

The head goes an interesting shade of green. “Erstwhile.”

“Erstwhile.” You try the name out, batting away a twinge of familiarity. Have you heard that name before? “You’re a Chameleon though, aren’t you? I thought they were all dead.”

“I have been here a long time, Princess Uhlayiss.”

You almost drop the jar. “How do you know my last name?”

“I read your thoughts, of course.”

“...Right.” That’s possible?! “Well, I’m going to put you in my bag before--”

“Gurl what the hell you got there?!” Pony drifts back down the aisle, muffled by a mouthful of something deep-fried and crunchy you can’t identify and really don’t want to. “That ain’t a wand charger! You gotta put it back, we’ll buy the whole store if you pick up every--”

“His name is Erstwhile, and he’s going to show us where the chargers are.”

She shoots Erstwhile a glare, and blanches when he turns both eyes to her. “...Uh-huh, sure, and I’m a seahorse. Don’t trust shit that shouldn’t talk, boo. That’s supposed to be a whole dead monster head decoration, it ain’t got no business being all...talk-y and look-y.”

“He’s fine, Pony. They should really manage their inventory better, if he’s supposed to be dead. Because he’s super not, and I think he’s kind of neat.”

“Mkay then, babygirl, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. There’s some dangerous shit in this store, and all my pony instincts say that’s some dangerous shit.”

“He’s a talking head, Pony. What’s he going to do? Bite me?”

Erstwhile makes a point of showing Pony his toothless gums, as though to reassure her, but she flinches away. “Oh, that’s nasty. But whatever tickles your peach, B. Fly. Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A thousand thank you's to everyone who gave kudos/comments/bookmarks. You are all mythical princesses who fight institutionalized fantasy racism.


	6. Chapter Five and a Half

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We have a lot to resolve, don't we? Fantasy Costco is complicated, and Glossaryk won't like how this ends. Sorry in advance for the slight dip in quality, I am so tired.  
> Edit: GUESS WHO FIGURED OUT HTML FOR FORMATTING

Be Ludo.

After General Toffee left your castle, you decided to stay away from Star for a few days. Now that the stakes are raised, you really should come up with better plans than throwing goons at her. You start holding marathon planning sessions in the dining hall. 

Before that, you do a little research on the General. Yes, you do! How he was supposed to be dead according to the queen, and where his favorite lieutenant went off to after the army scattered. Buff Frog hasn’t found anything from scouting. This would be much easier if you could remember the lieutenant’s name, because you could just kidnap him and ransom him for the wand. Septarians just love to pretend they’re heartless, but you know the truth! They mate for life, no exceptions. Not even General Toffee could refuse a trade for his other half.

That brings you to another question. If the General prefers muscle-y croc men, how does he have a daughter? Adoption is your first thought, but she looks just like him. Striking yellow eyes and everything. Her hair is weird, but kids these days are always doing weird things to their hair. It’s probably just dyed. 

No one gives you enough credit. It only takes a week or two for you to wonder why General Toffee is still alive, when the Queen says he died, and think your way right to the answer. That spell she used to scatter the army could kill any septarian. Queen Moon refuses to do public executions, but is it possible people just...assumed he was dead? Or he escaped, and she said he was dead in the hope he wouldn’t resurface. Which he hasn’t. Your men go around to all the dark, noisy places a monster could hide and never saw him once. That really puts a hole in the second theory.

But not the first.

So the Queen didn’t really kill him, and he’s got a daughter. Huh. A half-breed daughter, when septarians are notoriously stuck up about their affections and who they like to date. You might have been snubbed a few times, by snooty lizard boys and girls who couldn’t understand your brilliance. Maybe even by the general himself. So what? No one ever gives you enough credit.

General Toffee has a mewman mistress, and he’s living with her on earth! 

Of course, the first thing you do is write Queen Moon. If he’s stolen her wand for his daughter, and still alive at all, she’ll want to know! You start drafting a letter immediately.

 

_Dear Esteemed Queen Moon the Undaunted,_

_I have ~~found out~~ discovered some very interesting information about General Toffee of Septarsis, also called The Lizard. He escaped execution and is living with a mewman woman on Earth. ~~Since you declared~~ ~~Since he is supposed to be dead~~ ~~Since~~ Though he was declared dead by you and your court ~~ten fourteen thirteen~~ fifteen years ago, he ~~came to my house~~ ~~broke into~~ visited my estate one week from ~~today~~ the day I am writing this letter and threatened to ~~skullfuck me~~ harm my men and I for discovering his mistress and daughter. ~~No, Potato baby, we can’t write skullfuck in a letter to the queen. Why are you writing? Stop writing you~~_  


_His appearance was very ~~rude upsetting.~~ As you know, I served as a squire in General Toffee’s army. ~~I may hate my parents, but~~ Though I ~~kicked out~~ sent my parents away from Castle Avarius, I am still loyal to the Butterfly crown. There is more information I can’t write in a letter ~~because those snoops at the palace~~ for fear that someone will read this letter before you are able. Please come to Castle Avarius for the rest of the information. Bring corn._

_~~Love~~ Your Obedient Servant,  
L. Avarius_

 

Writing letters is hard work. You decide to write a second draft, without all that stricken-out mess, after your lunch.

That is, until you notice your reflection on the way to from your study to the dining hall. How could your men let you walk around like this! Your beak is dull and sad as your reflection looks tiredly back at you. Unacceptable. You stuffed the revised letter in your pocket to protect it from prying eyes, or better yet, to work on while you’re still in a writing mood. Toffee might be physically terrifying, but you can do something he can’t. You can tattle to the queen! Not even your dull beak and tired face can take that away from you.

“Buff Frog! Bring me my scissors!” You shout, smiling at your now-smiling reflection. “I need a new beak trimmer!”

It’s time for a trip to Quest Buy. Little do you know that, between stacks of useful things and weird, arcane junk, is the very wand you’re making plans to steal and the very illegal daughter you’re writing the queen about. You won’t even recognize Star when she walks past you, a little mewman girl talking seriously to a severed head in a jar. Quest Buy isn’t for everyone, you think. She’s clearly lost her mind. The store has that effect on some lesser, stupider beings than yourself. It’s not until she meets that scrawny little Earth boy at the end of the aisle that your keen sense of perception starts tingling.

“Giraffe, do we know those children?” You smack away another minion’s hand as they try to sneak something into the cart. And they thought you wouldn’t notice! 

Giraffe shrugs. “Uh.”

“That boy is…” You narrow your eyes. “Familiar. Giraffe! Follow those children!”

\----------

Be Marco. 

So, everything in this store is either wildly bizarre or obvious made to kill things with. Between the head in a jar Star is carrying around and Pony lingering around a tank of noisy, three-headed goats for ten minutes while Star’s new head translated directions, you’re not sure how much more you can take. Catching a glimpse of Ludo riding the baby seat of a cart pushed by his giraffe guy is the last straw.

“So, Ludo’s here.” You tell Star once she’s to the end of the aisle opposite where you just saw Ludo. 

“That’s nice, Marco.” She’s counting stone steps very carefully. 

“That’s not nice! He’s trying to steal your wand, remember?”

“Oh. Well, he can’t do anything with it right now. It’s really low. I guess he could try a spell, and then no one has to think about it again. Besides, I doubt he’ll recognize me. I got the glamour on, right? As long as the wand stays in my pocket, it’ll be fine.”

“What’ll be fine?” Pony asks, floating right behind you.

“Oh, it’s, uh--”

“There’s this Kappa that keeps trying to steal my wand.” Star says, pausing her counting completely. “He’s not a problem.”

The head, Erstwhile, laughs from his place balanced on her hip. “Careful, princess. Determination should never be underestimated. If you pay a threat no mind, there will come a day you regret it.”

“Right. Except he’s, like I said, not even a threat. 

You don’t share her confidence. As much as this Erstwhile guy creeps you out, it’s good to pay attention to the Ludo issue. Especially since her wand is dying, Pony’s here, and she can’t hold the glamour without her magic. Not that you can say that in front of the other princess. 

“We should still hurry, Star.” 

“Yeah, I know. Erstwhile, where was that shortcut?”

“Yes, princess. It will take us to the corner closest to magical supplementation devices.”

That doesn’t sound likely, but she follows the head’s instructions. Star takes the few steps, spins, and two hops the head told her to take and then disappears into the floor.

“Star!”

\----------

Be Ludo.

“Star!” 

You knew that little boy was familiar. He’s the boy who regularly beats up your men, sending them crying home about internal bleeding and hazard pay. Hazard pay! The nerve! But you’re getting distracted, Ludo. 

The boy cries out his friend/possible sister’s name and you realize why the blonde girl was so familiar. She is General Toffee’s illegal daughter, but she used her wand to change her face! You didn’t even know it could do that. There is so much you’ll learn about magic once you have the wand for yourself and get your big boy body. The little blonde girl vanished suddenly through the floor with her jar of severed head, leaving her friend/possible brother to pace circles around the spot she vanished into after two tries at also jumping through it.

“This is insane, Pony. This is crazy. She was right here?”

“Well yeah, and now she’s not.” There’s a bright pink pony head floating next to the boy. “It happens. She’s probably fine, if head-man knows what he’s talking about. Or she’s dead. Which. Would be bad.”

“Should we ask an employee about this? Hey!” He grabs a passing employee. “My friend just--”

“Whoa, kid. Not my department. Hands off.” The sloth pulls his arm away.

“She just disappeared into the floor!”

“Well, uh, okay. It’s really not my department, though. Try customer service.”

“Are you kidding me?!” He yells after the retreating employee. “That’s ridiculous! Oh, shit, Pony. Mr. Toffee is gonna kill me.”

“...Who that, tho?”

“He’s, uh, Star’s bodyguard.”

“Named Toffee? Like the candy?” Pony snorted. “Oh, that’s funny. What’s he gonna do, give you a cavity?”

“No. He’s going to eat me. How could this happen?! I have to go back and--oh no, no no no, Star has the scissors!”

“Shouldn’t you be worried about, uh, her mom and dad? You know, the King and Queen of Mewni? Actual royalty and all, no biggie.”

“Oh no, I can’t even--man, okay, no.” He shakes his head. “We can’t tell them. Star would be so pissed if Queen Moon showed up here. She’d probably rather get eaten by the floor.”

“For real? Homegirl and I got a looooot in common. So what are we gonna do?”

“Nothing! Anything! I don’t know.” The boy starts pacing again. “I can’t even go get Mr. Toffee without the scissors.”

“Oh, you mean like, these scissors?” 

Ponyhead spits out another pair of dimensional scissors with jagged red handles. You cringe. Ew, horse drool. 

“You have--thank god. Okay.” He straightens up a little. “Okay. We have to go get Mr. Toffee. He’ll know what to do.”

“Like I said, you don’t wanna tell her parents?”

“I--No! She’ll get in trouble,” He adds. “They’ll send her off to some kind of military school instead of earth, and I’ll never get to see her again. Let’s just--”

“Surprise!” You shout, kicking at Giraffe to make him turn the corner. “You aren’t going anywhere! I want that wand!”

“...Yeah, well. We don’t have it.” Says the boy, before putting his face in his hand. His next words are muffled. “Fantasy Costco ate Star. She’s got the wand.”

You didn't think about that. If Star has the wand, and the store ate the wand, then where is the wand now?!

“I don’t have time for this. Are you coming, Pony?”

“Nah. I’ll stay here, maybe try and call my girl. You know. Responsible follow-up stuff. She’s gotta be here, right?”

“Right. I’ll be back here in like ten minutes, okay?”

“You’re not going anywhere! Seize him!” He isn’t going anywhere until you know where your wand is. “I want answers?”

“Chill,” the boy says, right before he vanishes through a portal that slams shut behind him, leaving Chicken flailing in midair. You go to yell something else, but stop as Chicken vanishes through the same hole in the floor Star vanished through. No! Quest Buy ate her too. 

“Bring me that wand!” You howl at the floor. “Chicken!”

\----------

Be Marco.

“Mr. Toffee--Mr. Toffee!” 

You trip over the step into the kitchen and go sprawling across the floor. Real smooth, Diaz. You get even smoother when you look up and see how close Mr. Toffee is to your mom. They’re drinking wine, at 3:00pm on a weekday, leaned together chatting on the barstools. All you can do for a second is stare. There’s a moment where you forget about the crisis you came here for to start a whole new line of panic.

Are they…?

“Marco!” Your mother scolds, snapping you out of your thoughts. “How many times are you going to trip over that before you stop running in the house?”

“I, uh, I--this is an emergency.” You scramble to your feet. “Mr. Toffee, we can’t find Star. She picked up this severed head, and it was giving her directions, and Pony is still looking for her but she fell through the floor and Ludo is also there looking for her so he can--”

“Marco.”

“I’m so sorry, I should have--”

“Marco.”

You fall silent, staring down at the linoleum floor and trying not to shake. “She just...disappeared.”

“And you are concerned. I understand. Breathe, please.” His shoes are weirdly silent, even though it’s linoleum in the kitchen and his shoes look like they should squeak when you’re looking down at them. Too afraid to look up. Mr. Toffee sighs. “Marco. Star will be fine. Thank you for telling me.”

“I, I have to…”

“Yes, alright. I will come with you.” He gives your mother an apologetic look as you look up, but she waves it off.

“Go ahead, the cakes are still warm.”

“I’ll be back to help you ice them.” Mr. Toffee grabs his glass of wine off the counter and downs it on his way out of the kitchen. You don’t miss how his hand brushes your mom’s back on the way past, but he’s expecting you to follow. That little touch is a problem for another, less stressful time.

You follow him quickly out of the kitchen. “Okay. Pony’s there, but I already slipped up and had to tell her you’re Star’s bodyguard.”

“True enough.”

“She’s waiting at--hey,wait.” You hurry up the stairs after him. “Where are you going?”

“Getting my coat.”

He comes back in a breastplate over his usual suit, with an iron sickle at his hip. Where he’s been hiding that, you’re not really sure. Somehow you think Star would play with it a lot more if she knew there was a sword in the house. That’s probably why it’s hidden.

“Ludo is there, yes?”

“He was, yeah.”

“Excellent.” He draws yet another pair of scissors from his coat, opening a portal. “Shall we?”

“But you said you didn’t know where it was!”

“Of course I know where Quest Buy is, child.” He smiles when he says that, surprisingly affectionate. All he has to do now is ruffle your hair, and he’ll really be acting like a dad, or a stepdad--not now, Diaz. Later. “Shall we?”

His portal spits you out ten feet away from where you were. Ludo is gone, and so is Pony. There’s some mild destruction in the aisle to suggest a fight, but Mr. Toffee doesn’t seem bothered. He motions for you to stay quiet, darting around the aisle end way faster than you thought possible just as you hear Pony yell. 

“Eat dirt, bird-man!”

You round the corner just in time to see Pony knock a twenty pound bag of soil down on Ludo and his giraffe guy. Beardeer and Two-Heads aren’t far off, but Mr. Toffee is already there with his sickle while Ludo is distracted. He hits the shield Beardeer has once, twice before he kicks out the other monster’s feet and rips the shield from him to throw at Two-Heads. You already knew he could fight. This is just...new. You kick Giraffe as hard as you can before he can bite Pony, and she knocks him away with a blast of light from her horn.

“Hey, you’re back! Nice kick.”

When you look back to Mr. Toffee you’re just in time to see him slice Two-Heads from sternum to stomach with his sickle, shallow but painful. Beardeer kicks the sickle out of his hands and gets rewarded with one, two hard impacts to the leg. It takes a second for the sound to catch up to you.

BANG! BANG!

That’s gunfire. He turns around with a revolver in hand and Beardeer twitching on the floor with his friend. Alive, but you think that will probably send Ludo running for the hills. And you’re wrong. Running is what he does after a fight with you and Star. Apparently Ludo’s reaction to real, authentic fear of his new opponent is to freeze where he is and hope Mr. Toffee can’t see him if he doesn’t move. Giraffe already ran for his friends while he could.

“Second warning.” Mr. Toffee stares Ludo down, gun at his side. The little bird man gulps. “Take your garbage, and go. Don’t. Come. Back.”

Ludo hops through a portal, shouting for his guys to hurry up and carry their wounded through. Vaguely amused, Mr. Toffee watches them eerily until the last one disappears into the portal and the magic ends. Pony is the first to say something.

“Well, you’re uh, you’re hot. I mean--hi, Mr. Toffee. I’m Pony Princesshead--Princess Ponyhead, uh.” She looks like she’s about to swallow her tongue, and not because she’s scared like a normal person. Of course not. “That’s a sick ass wand.”

“It’s called a gun.”

“A guuuun. Sick af. What kind of spells does it cast?”

“Bullet.”

You choke on a borderline hysterical laugh. He’s not wrong, you guess. Who are you to say what qualifies as a spell? Pony nudges you with a look that says ‘don’t ruin this for me’ while Mr. Toffee puts his gun away. It kills you how normal he looks, like he didn’t just shoot two holes in a guy’s chest. 

Sure, the guy was attacking him, but he wasn’t a bad guy. You and Star have fought these guys so many times you know his name is Beardeer and he’s working for Ludo because he rescued him. Star has even told you that they’re not bad monsters, they’re hungry and desperate and not the real problem. Not even Ludo is evil. He’s greedy and kind of annoying, but in front of Mr. Toffee he just cowers like a scared kid. If you’re scared of one of them, it isn’t Ludo. It’s Mr. Toffee. Maybe going to get him was a mistake.

“Now,” The man’s voice makes you jump a little. If he’s bothered by what he just did, it’s not showing through his empty default smile. “To find Star. Show me where you last saw her.”

\----------

Be Star, surprised at how well Erstwhile knows this huge store. According to him he’s been here for a long time, just watching people shop and occasionally trading directions for a nice walk. That seems pretty fair to you. You’re chatting pleasantly about some of the weirder things Quest Buy has to offer. There are pickled ogre toes and wax figurines of unlikely monsters he names as you walk past. 

It’s really nice to just...walk around a store. Usually it’s just Marco that gets your weird, dark humor and slight fear of really big spaces, but Erstwhile doesn’t question your suspect jokes about a rack of pre-tied nooses or when you walk around a massive courtyard in the middle of the aisles instead of through it.

“So...how did you get here, Erstwhile?”

“Ah. That is a long an interesting story...but we have some time. Tell me, princess, have you heard of the grand city of Ertonding?”

“It sounds familiar.”

“As I dare say it should. Once Ertonding and Athever were twin beacons of Chameleon culture and artistry. I do not know how they fair now. Though I know many cities were destroyed and the monarchy deposed, no one has brought word of these cities...but this conversation will keep, Princess Uhlayiss. We are being followed. Don’t look back.”

“I won’t. Who is it?”

“The Kappa.”

“Ludo.” You sigh. “Of course. I hope he didn’t pick today to be dangerous and actually hurt Marco or Pony.”

“Regardless of that, he follows us. What will you do?”

“Fight him, I guess.”

Erstwhile does a little twitch that would probably be a nod if he had shoulders or a neck. “Have a care. This merchandise is valuable, and we cannot replace it all if damaged. You will need to be subtle.”

You duck around the corner and wait. A few seconds later the giraffe monster pops its head around it and right into your fist. With the wand so low on power, you’ll have to settle this the old-fashioned way. Chicken squawks and gives herself away behind you just in time to duck and let her sail over you. Quick as you can, you kick her in the butt to knock her down and bolt for the next aisle, the next, a wide and glittering display labelled “Wand Chargers” that you stop for regardless of how you’re being chased.

“We found it!”

There’s a ladder nearby. You hurry up it, kicking off your shoes to get a better grip on thin metal rungs as Ludo himself crashes into the display in his shopping cart. Ignoring the indignant creaking from the shelves under you, you hurry up as fast as you can while checking the items in front of you.

“Void, Saltsea, Interstellar--” You catch sight of the heart-shaped diamond you need just as the whole display shakes. Three stories below you is the huge giraffe minion, ramming his shoulder into the stone shelves while Ludo squeals. It’s so close! Just three more steps, and you can grab it. “Just a little further--”

Unfortunately for you, the shelf won’t hold long enough to go just a little further. You feel it sway back and forth nauseatingly before it falls forward just as you grab the charger. Well, that won’t help you if you’re dead. Maybe if you jump far enough, you’ll make it to--no time. Fingers crossed. You clutch Erstwhile close and jump.

“IPSUM STABILIS!” Erstwhile commands. 

His voice booms louder that the groaning shelf, or Ludo’s manic shouting, familiar and unfamiliar at once, echoing with too many voices for one throat. Those two words fill the air, meaning nothing to you as words and everything to universe. For a split second everything around you hangs in perfect balance. The very air around you is stilled, falling merchandise paused in mid-air, and even your own body unnaturally still though your feet have already left the floor. A dust mote hovers tensely in your line of sight. Though you’ve left solid ground, every atom around you fits perfectly in its own space. 

Your heart beats once and the stillness is broken. The massive bookcase settles, groaning with the strain of gravity while merchandise not yet fallen snaps back into place. You float harmlessly down to the ground and land on your feet at the base of the ladder. Even Ludo’s minions are straightened and standing where they were sprawled messily on the floor. No one speaks, but you manage an exhilarated giggle. New, exciting magic thrums in your veins. It feels...natural. This is the kind of magic you should be doing. Your scales tingle under the glamour. It takes you a moment to realize the charger you need is still in your hand.

“Sweet,” You say. “Got it. Let’s check out.”

Checking out is pretty simple, at least, compared to all the other parts of shopping here. It’s just like going to the store on Earth. Well, except everyone pays in gold and jewels, and no one hesitates when you dump a thousand gold out of your enchanted coin purse. The charger is only a gold piece, but Erstwhile is on sale for 999 gold (previously 2,000 gold) and you pay happily. It doesn’t seem like that much if you can learn to do magic like that! Your new friend is full of surprises. Hopefully he likes answering questions. 

“Thank you, Princess Uhlayiss.” Erstwhile gives you his odd toothless smile, but it’s honestly more cute than it is terrifying. “That went very well. Shall we find your companions?”

All your new questions will have to wait until you get home. You weren’t expecting to see your dad here, but he has Marco and Pony. Pony starts up telling you what you missed while your dad, pretending to be your bodyguard, escorts you out of the store and into the massive parking lot.

“Gurl you shoulda seen it! I thought I was had, and he comes out of nowhere. Blam, blam! He’s got this awesome magic wand--”

“A gun,” Papa clarifies.

“Yeah, uh huh, so he chased off those nasty monster guys--not that all monsters are nasty--and got us all to the charger section! Ludo’s guys were there, but I guess they were grocery shopping? I guess everybody shops. It’s, like, totally universal. Anyway we get there and it’s real tense, like really REALLY tense but--”

You’re too excited to get home to really focus on what she’s saying. That’s probably fine. Pony seems to really like talking. Marco is hovering protectively behind you, like he’s not sure how to feel about today’s adventure or watching your dad kick the stuffing out of Ludo’s guys. Since Pony is so excited, you kinda wish you got to see it go down. Maybe he’ll fight with you the next time Ludo shows up.

All three of you say bye in the parking lot (with Pony still trying to flirt with your dad a little, hilarious) and Papa snips open a portal home after he’s sure you’re alright and have what you need. If the severed head bothers him, you can’t tell. He even says he can come with you, if he would like. Marco doesn’t look excited.

“Do you want to come with us?” You ask Erstwhile, really hoping he’ll say yes. “Please? My dad says it’s fine.”

“I don’t see why not. I’m indebted to you, after all. I never thought to leave the store again.”

What you don’t see is the slightly predatory lean to his smile as you turn your attention to stepping through the portal. It’s there and gone in a flash, too quick for you to even unpack before you’re back in the living room and startling Ms. Angie so much she almost drops her bowl of frosting for the cupcakes. Mm, frosting. 

“Hey, Glossaryk!” You set Erstwhile down carefully on the table in your room. He already assured you he doesn’t need to come to dinner, and notes that Ms. Angie looked a bit queasy over the idea. “I’m back.”

The little blue man is sitting on his book and reading another, smaller book that disappears when he looks up. “What do you have there?”

“A wand charger.”

Unamused, Glossaryk looks from you to Erstwhile and back again. 

“Oh, this is Erstwhile. I found him at Quest Buy. We’re friends. He can do magic.”

“So can you.”

“He does a different kind, and he says he can teach me. You said there aren’t any magic books by monsters, right? Well, he wrote one. I’m going to go and get it. Then I’ll have a book by another monster, and you can stop pretending like your book has the last word on all magic ever. Okay?”

“...Princess,” He’s more serious than you’ve ever seen him. “It wasn’t my intent to offend you.”

“Too bad. You did offend me, and now you’ll have to deal with having a co-teacher.”

“I don’t have to teach you.”

“Then I have no use for the book. I’ll cut out Eclipsa’s chapter, and burn the rest. Problem solved. Oh…” You pretend to think for a moment, timing your words just right for impact. “But you’re tied to the book, right? I wonder what would happen to you if I burnt most of it.”

Glossaryk bristles. “You can’t.”

“Really? Fascinating. Erstwhile, could I destroy the Book of Spells by burning it?”

Your new friend grins slyly. “Undoubtedly, Princess Uhlayiss.”

“Then we have conflicting accounts, and I trust Erstwhile. He hasn’t insulted my culture, or hidden my wand charger to teach me a lesson. Maybe it’s time the Butterfly family wrote a new book, with better information. Don’t force my hand.”

“You sound just like your father.” It’s meant to be an insult, but you know better than that. If he gets results and learns what he wants, why shouldn’t you be more like him?

“Thank you.” You flash him a too-sharp smile and note his disappointment with some disappointment of your own. “I try.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna start updating Tuesday/Thursday from now on, in the hopes of making longer, better-edited chapters for y'all. Love and hugs to everyone who gives kudos/comments, you are all as beautiful and deadly as the concept of Fantasy Costco.


	7. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Star has a magic lesson, Pony goes to princess jail, and Moon learns something she rather wishes she didn't know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year, everybody!! Have almost 6,000 words to kick off 2019.

Be Star, having a magic lesson you’re actually looking forward to.

“Allow me to adjust your expectations. I am a linguist, not a sorcerer such as yourself. You may very well find my methods tedious.” Erstwhile says, as serious as always. That explains why he made you get and start reading so many dead language dictionaries. “Have you already gone over schools of magic?”

“No.”

“How...unexpected.” 

The look he shoots Glossaryck is unfavorable at best, downright disgusted at worse. It seems the week of sharing close quarters before you asked Erstwhile for lessons didn’t get them used to each other. You’d be lying if you said Glossaryck’s displeasure didn’t make you smile. He’s uncomfortable? Insulted? Good. Now he knows how you felt.

“I will get right into it, then. There are eight schools of recognized magic.”

“Seven.” Glossaryck interjects.

“...Eight. I am not here to give Princess Uhlayiss incomplete information, and do not write necromancy off so easily, Ser Glossaryck.” If Erstwhile had hands, he would be waving his co-teacher away. “As I was saying. There is Abjuration, or spells that block, protect, or otherwise banish threats. Conjuration, which involves summoning materials or even living beings to the caster. Divination is the study of predictions and revealing information--are you taking notes, Princess Uhlayiss?”

You were so enraptured by what he was saying, your notebook lays forgotten. Embarrassed, you snatch it up to scribble down what he said. “Sorry, Master Erstwhile.”

“It is good to see you excited. As I was saying... _Divination_ is the study of predictions and revelations. _Enchantment_ imbues ordinary objects with extraordinary power. _Evocation_ is to call another force to your will, or even will something new into existence. _Illusion_ , self-explanatory. _Necromancy_ , the manipulation or direct destruction of life force. _Transmutation_ , changing one thing into another. These are the foundations of magic as our people know it. If they have not recanted, which I suspect they have not, Necromancy has long been declared unlawful and evil.”

Glossaryck picks this moment to drift to the edge of your desk. “For good reason, Princess Star.”

“Uhlayiss.”

“Princess Uhlayiss,” he corrects, bristling slightly. You suppose he isn’t used to being corrected. “Whatever your opinion of me or the Magical High Commission, necromancy is dangerous and corrosive.”

“I will keep that in mind. Master Erstwhile, please continue.”

“Thank you. I myself am an evoker, and one of no small talent. Each school of magic requires a great deal of memorization and dedication to specific principles of each school. Our people draw power from rituals and words. Most do not have the spark of magic you do, Princess, and so it is surmounted by effort. I suspect this form of casting will come easily for you.”

“What school of magic did you use to stop the shelf from falling?”

“Evocation, of course. I commanded the shelf to right itself. The stability is one of many spells in human Latin. The words themselves hold an inherent amount of power, owing to the lack of Latin speakers in the world today. Disuse lends magical power to words, an accumulation of meaning that can prove powerful enough to affect objects in reality. Theory comprises much of what I will teach you before we cast extensively--but there is a spell I think you will find useful for today. Consider it...a pretest of sorts.”

You nod. “What will I do?”

“It is simple. Imagine an addition to this room. How would you like it to be? You may add floors, stairways, whatever fixtures you desire. Close your eyes, and picture how you would like this room to look.” His voice is hypnotic, bidding your eyes closed as you summon up another, bigger version of your bedroom. “Take your time.”

In your mind’s eye the room is three stories with open floors, with floor-to-ceiling bookcases full of bound, blank books and accessible with spindly gold ladders and separated into four long columns by massive windows. You imagine something from a storybook. A waterfall rushes down the side furthest from a larger, grander bed and makes a deep pool set in a third of the floor and framed with flowering trees you’ve seen only in pictures, nearby books protected by two tall glass ledges. Everything is colorful and luxurious. You imagine cool tile floors and cushions scattered everywhere, desks and a small room to the side for your lessons. It’s...beautiful. 

“I am ready.”

“Good. Now imagine scaling the room in your imagination to fit this room. Feel it shrink to fit inside the walls. Do not be afraid to scale yourself and us down as well, and then expand it back to original size. Let it contract, and then expand. Tell me when you are comfortable with this.”

“I’m comfortable.”

And you are. It’s the easiest thing in the world to picture the room growing and shrinking again in time with your breath. You render everything black with white lining for simplicity. In and out, in and out, it catches for a moment on the edge of the room you’re in. Eyes still closed, you listen carefully.

“Now imagine the space we are in growing and shrinking with it, as though the walls line your illusion...allow it to shrink, and imagine the walls are flexible. It contains the room you imagine and does not. The room you imagine can exist in the space. Let it scale into this room and beyond it, but don’t allow the room itself to expand.”

You do this, surprised by how easily it springs into place. It will fit in this room because this room is limitless so long as you focus. It can be one size inside, and another from the outside. Space is just a construct for you.

“When you are ready, speak the words _‘hoc spatio opus…’_ ” He waits for you to repeat him, and you are careful to say exactly what he says as you keep the size-shifting room in your mind. “ _‘Non oportet crescere. Falsa spatii addere, superius et inferius.’_ ”

A flash of light blinds you even through your eyelids, and you duck under the desk to shield yourself from even brighter light to come. Stunned, you stay under the desk, arms and legs and tail heavy from effort. It’s like you’ve gone for a really, really long run. All your muscles hurt and so does your brain. You’re so distracted by your tired body it takes you a solid minute to realize the roar of water isn’t just in your aching head.

It’s the waterfall. 

You open your eyes and the desk is different, huge and white like you imagined. The floor around you is littered with silk cushions on cool, marbled tile, a trail leading to the four-poster bed like the one in the castle. You skitter to your feet to look around in amazement. You did it! You really did it! There are the windows, the bookcases, spindly gold ladders and swaying flowers. It’s just like you imagined.

Both your teachers sit on the desk, and now so does the Book of Spells. 

“Well, Princess Uhlayiss.” Glossaryck says while he does a little spin, taking in your new room. “You don’t think small, do you?”

“Nope.”

“You should make sure the spell fit in the room.”

“It did.” You know it did. 

“Very good.” Erstwhile is smiling his pink, toothless smile, his scales a pleasant shade of blue. “I did not imagine this would go so well, though I should have known better. Even your windows are functioning. This is a flawless expansion spell. Congratulations.”

“I have to tell my dad!” You’re already bolting out of the room. “PA--”

You clamp down on the word, throwing yourself back and snapping a glamour on just in time to see Marco rounding the stairs to the landing with Ponyhead beside him. 

 

\----------

 

Be Princess Ponyhead and check in on your best girl with, uh...a few teensy little ulterior motivations.

 

You’re not lying when you say you want to see her! She’s so cool, even getting lost in Quest Buy couldn’t scare her. Y’all (you, Earthturd, and the gorgeous Mr. Toffee) rolled up on her checking out and chatting with her new severed head like it’s no big thing to fall through a floor and reappear an hour later with a charger and way a lot of gold. The King and Queen give her THAT MUCH pocket money?!?!?! You gotta have a talk with Daddy. That’s like a whole year of allowance right there.

Anyways, you like B. Fly just fine. Y’all talk princess-to-princess on the phone all the time ever since the Ball. She probably knows more about you than your own dad. It occurs to you if you told her why you were actually here, she could probably even help you with this really bad thing you’re dealing with. 

But ‘what would she know?’ is your counter-argument to yourself and it’s pretty flawless. Sure, she’s a badass and she always listens to you, but really. She’s got to be just the perfect princess at home to get allowance like that and a personal model/bodyguard like that. Her parents even let her live in another dimension! Why would they even do that if she wasn’t hands-down the perfect princess? You bet no one has even thought of Saint O’s while they were in the room with her. So you show up and just ask her to come party with you.

She brings Earthturd with her (which is super blah) but she’s down and ready to party. That was pretty much a coin toss, and you’re glad it’s heads-up and hips out for a fun night of dancing.

First party you roll into is pretty blah, because sure people are dancing but it’s missing a certain spark of ‘YOLO’ and reckless party abandon for your tastes. Poor B. Fly says she’s never even been to a party, and your heart breaks for her. Never been to a party, and this is the one you bring her to?? The shame. These people are so casual! Supports your idea that she’s never gonna get sent to Saint O’s as she is. How bad would it be if you got her into the scene just so you could have a friend on the inside? That feels pretty skeevy to you, but still. At least you would know somebody. 

“It’s loud.” B. Fly says, looking less in awe of the dancers and more like she wants water. “And it’s $10 for a sandwich. I could just make a sandwich at home.”

Earthturd laughs. “Right? $1 per sandwich if you make it yourself.”

“We could have eaten dinner before we came.”

“Guys, guys! If you eat, you can’t get super smashed on two drinks!”

“We’re fourteen.” B. Fly tells you. “The only kind of ‘super smashed’ we need is the kind with Mario in it.”

“What’s a Mario?”

“...Super Smash is a video game. But my point still stands. I know Mewni doesn’t have a drinking age, but I live on Earth and the drinking age is 21. I’ve got seven more years and I’m okay with that.”

“Yeah, okay, maybe getting smashed isn’t your thing--we can still dance, right?”

“It’s loud.” She repeats. 

You sigh. Clearly you have a lot to teach her about the partying arts. But not here! There’s one of those terrifying black robot men on your six, holding a photo of definitely you and interrogating a party-goer. 

“You know what? Maybe you’re right, video games are sick.” No, they’re not, ugh. “You’ll love the arcade B. Fly let’s go!”

Ugh, the Arcade is such a snoozefest you’d literally be asleep on a console if you weren’t so freaked out. How did those golems even find out you went to Earth at all? You should have lost them at Earth! They shouldn’t even know what club you were in and you hate not knowing how they’re following you this fast. It’s not like you’re leaving anything behind! It’s got to be magic, right? It’s gotta be.

You’re so distracted about paying attention to what’s going on you lose two straight games to Earthturd and can barely sit still. This is what stress does to you, Pony, this is what happens. This is why you probably should have paid better attention to curfew and not drank Daddy’s special occasion favorite wine in front of him to be rude. There’s a lot of things you shouldn’t have done. Sneaking out the window, dumping evidence in Pranciss’ room, stealing money from Daddy’s study to pay for fun nights on the town. Now you’re so distracted you barely brush Earthturd’s annoying victory-brags off. 

He plays the next person in line and wins again. Star went to get drinks. There’ll be no living with him, you think, but that thought shrivels up and dies when you see a golem just around the corner. Oh, no. How are they doing this??

Without a word to Earthturd you go rushing off to find Star. You can’t stay here any longer, and you can’t go back for Earthturd without risking yourself. So naturally, you lie and say he already left. How else will you get Star out of here? Besides, you didn’t come to party with that rando. 

“Pony…” B. Fly interrupts your thoughts even over the dance music in this new dimension. “Are you okay?”

“Whaaaat? Of course I’m okay!” Oh no, no, no. That sounds fake even to you. “Girl what? What’sa matter with you?”

“Nothing. You’re just...tense. Maybe it’s just the music. It’s pretty loud here, too.”

The Bounce Lounge is hands, hooves, and horns down your favorite place to party. It’s been open for like a million years, but somehow it never gets old. You swear people from a literal hundred years ago are still coming here on the reg. Why wouldn’t they? Everything about it is sick as hell. 

You love the bright, sparkly blue and white dance floor and the raised platform in the middle of the clouds that make you feel like you’re dancing in another world. It’s less like a lounge and more like a party island in a sea of white with no borders. Even the drunk-tank downstairs feels open despite the walls--all glass, all barely noticeable if you’re smashed as hell and winding down with some water.

“So, this one is...better.” B. Fly comments. “What’s downstairs?”

“Bar and drunk tank. They don’t serve alcohol up here. Too many people fell to their deaths.”

What a rad way to go. Still, you’re glad you float and can never fall like most people might if they get too close to the edge. You’re more likely to fly right up into open sky, never get seen again. Wouldn’t that be great? That would be pretty great. You could really use a drink.

“Come on, B-girl, let’s go down and get something. You gotta try a Glitterbomb, okay? I was fourteen when I had my first Glitterbomb. It’s like, barely even got alcohol in it. Kid stuff.”

“Okay. But just one.”

Downstairs looks as sparkly-blue-and-white-inviting as always. You roll up to the cut-glass bar and wink at the newest bartender. He already knows your shit. You look back to where B. Fly was, wanting to say something about old pictures of you and your club gang.

But ya girl already rolled wayyyy past what you wanted to show her. She walks right past all the glittery cool shit you thought she'd be into and down the wall to the real old shit in the back. Looks like you have no choice but to follow her.

"Hey, Pony. What's this?"

"Oh gurl it's nothin'! Old partiers, y'know, back when the Bounce Lounge was first happenin'. There’s like a whole line from the last hundred years. Boring stuff, mostly. All the clothes are terrible. Like, did they just invent fashion when we were born?!"

"That's not nothing." She touches the oldest, grimiest picture board. "Monsters came here? That long ago?”

“Well yeah, I guess. What’s got you all into monsters?”

“I, whoa.” She pauses, almost touching one of the greasy old pictures. Yikes. “Is that my...Mr. Toffee?"

"Whaaaaaat?” You lean in quick. If he’s here, you’re excited. That would be a night to remember! But of course he likes the Bounce Lounge. Ugh, he’s so pretty it’s like, not even fair. “For real?" 

But Star's not in an explaining mood. There's a dragon-looking mofo under her scaly finger with red streaks in his black hair, wearing a pressed suit and looking like sex itself. He's leaning on a green croc-man in way-tight pants and accepting a cute cheek-kiss while Croc blushes. No wonder. Damn, he's downright undressing him with his eyes and--

"Is that Mr. Toffee?!" Oh day-yum, emphasis on the yum. It totally is him. You wonder if he still looks like that when he’s not at work, ignoring the fact that he’s at least a hundred years old. With shoulders like that, who even cares? Delish. 

"Raz and the original crew," B. Fly reads the faded lettering at the top almost too quiet to hear. "No quarter, no mercy."

"Whoa."

"He used to come here." She snags the picture off the board and tuck it into her pocket. "Okay. Back to the party. You said...Glitterbombs?”

You kinda wanna explain she's not supposed to do that, touching is a big faux paw, but you don't think it’s a good idea when she’s already gonna be heeeella pissed when she realizes you ditched Earthturd back in the square dimension full of nerd games. Now’s a good time to let her be distracted.

You wait until you’re a Bomb and a half deep before talking again beyond nodding and ‘uh-huh’-ing B. Fly’s observations of the Lounge. What can you say? A little social lube never hurt nobody. If your girl sipping on her drink is anything to go by, she likes it. You can’t wait to get her to try something else. It’s gonna be so great. You’re so glad you ditched Earthturd. 

“So, uh...you’re friends with Mr. Toffee, right? Like he guards you and all, but you like him okay.”

“Yeah. He’s been, uh, a lot more than a guard. He’s more like my dad.”

“Whoa. That’s pretty sweet.” You don’t miss how she takes an actual gulp of her half-gone drink. Oh, you smell a story. You’ll get there. The bartender, a skinny mewman guy, sets down another round for you. Nice. You’ll get there, one way or another. 

“He’s family. That’s why the King and Queen let me come here with him, because they knew I would be safe.” She puts a hand over the pocket with her stolen picture in it while she takes another drink. “But you know, the monster wars were bad. Most of his friends died fighting for, uh, Archduke Batwin. So I wanna give this to him, and maybe he’ll like it.”

She actually looks sad, but that could just be you, right? Because anyways you can see one hulking golem interrogating a party-goer with your fab stolen selfie and you have got to make glitter tracks.

“Ohhh my corn that is like, so sweet of you! You’re so nice.” Whoops, that sounds fake, but keep going. “You know what girl?? I’m really not feelin’ this tonight, you know? Let’s make like the lounge and bounce on out.”

“...Oh. Sure.” She gives you a smile. “We better find Marco first though.”

“Yeah. About that. He’s uh, probably still in the Arcade!”

“You made him a portal to come here though, right?”

“Psh yeah totally,” Not. “But he probably like, you know, got busy with the game, and maybe it closed before he was done? They don’t stay open forever. I just don’t see him.”

“That does sound like Marco, even more than saving us a spot to sit.” And you don’t miss her bright, actual smile over that square idiot. “He gets so focused on what he’s doing. Let’s go.”

Unfortunately for you, Earthturd isn’t where you left him. The game isn’t even there anymore. It’s just a big black scorch mark on the bad linoleum, the first in a line of scorch marks down the hall of busted up arcade games and squares knocked flat on the ground. There is, however, no sign of the square you’re actually looking for.

“Marco?!” B. Fly looks around fast before jumping up on top of some arcade game wreckage to look into other aisles. It’s probably good she only had half a Bomb. “MARCO?!”

“Polo!” You hear in the distance. “Star--!!”

“MARCO!” 

She’s gone in a flash. Her too-long dress snags under her feet when she jumps the aisle next to you and lands hard enough to tear it. All you can really do is speed after her while she leaps from aisle to aisle on all fours like some kind of princess ninja with her wand zipping around in the slipstream behind her so she doesn’t have to use her hands. Whoa.

Earthturd is tied to a chair for interrogation or whatever, but not for long. Star throws a wordless blast of what looks like hot air and throws the golems around him a good hundred feet away and on their asses while she yells for you to cover her. She’s not even holding her wand! 

You fire off a couple beams in that direction to slow down the massive metal men while Star is dealing with the ropes. Next thing you know you’re cutting yourself off mid-magic beam because Star and Earthturd are running up to put the hurt on them close-range.

After a short scuffle, B. Fly is standing on the biggest one’s chest. 

“Who sent you?” She demands.

The golem only whirrs nervously.

“Fine. Don’t talk.” She brandishes her wand at it. “ _Ostium!_ ”

And there’s a literal portal hole open. B. Fly throws her prey into it without blinking and slams it shut before advancing on the next one. “Can’t talk? Fine. Your parts have got to have some kind of tag on them. I’ll turn my wand into a screwdriver and take you apart if I have to.”

Oh, that would be bad. So bad. She’s starting to take off the chest-plate while the mechanical man clicks worriedly. This isn’t what you wanted! I mean, come on, Pony! You didn’t even know for sure B. Fly could fight at all. Now she’s doing this! You can’t take it anymore!

“Okay okay FINE! I LIED!”

B. Fly’s wand is suddenly in your face, screwdriver tip waaaay too close to your eye for comfort and her furious face only a foot apart from you. “Why?”

“It’s not just a party sesh B. Fly. There’s just a bunch of people from Saint O’s reform school, and I, I didn’t--”

“Want to go there. Right.” She turns her back on you. “So you lied?”

“He’s gotta be here somewhere though right?”

“You better hope he is.” Which, what is that supposed to mean? What’s she even going to do to you? But then one of those big robot guys drops down, Star shouts something in another language, and he’s frozen in place minus the ice. What the hell? Pony, girl, you are just full of questions tonight.

B. Fly walks up and straight kicks the now actually-frozen golem through one of the games. Hope nobody wanted to play that any time soon, because it’s toast. On second thought, lying to her? Not your best moment. Maybe telling her was bad. Probably you should have guessed how mad lying would make her. You definitely have some regrets and somehow you know breezing past them like nothing ain’t gonna fly like it normally does.

“Now you better tell me why you lied, and it better be good.”

Earthturd pretty much materializes next to your girl. “Whoa, Star, hey…”

“Don’t you hey me. Why did you lie?”

Well, out with it, then.

“I just don’t wanna go to Saint O’s girl you got no idea what they do there! Girls who go in come out acting like dolls. They’re not even alive anymore, like,” Your voice drops. “...it’s all gone. All the stuff that makes them who they are.  
I don’t want to turn into that.I just don’t want them to put me in jail and cut part of my brain out or something to take away who I am, so I’m running away. But since I’m not gonna have like a mirror or anything I wanted to, uh, to...just get to party with you for a minute before I gotta disappear. Or they take me away and I can’t party anymore, or ever talk to you ever again.”

At least B. Fly thinks about it for a minute. It’s really hard to tell what she’s thinking, but when she finally sighs like she’s made up her mind you see Earthturd relax like you’re in the clean a little bit. Or at least like B. Fly isn’t about to make your insides your outsides.

“...Okay.” She sounds very decisive. “I get it. Probably better than you think.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I know what it’s like for your parents to try to change who you are. If you’re running away to be yourself, I get it.”

“Oh.” Even though she’s always listened to you and had pretty good shit to say, hearing her agree with what you’re trying to do means a lot. “Thanks, B. Fly. So you’re not...mad?”

“No. But hey, for the record? I would have helped you if you just told me. I swear. No one deserves to lose who they are, especially not for something stupid like too many dumb parties. Royal parents are pretty messed up. Now come on. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

“Oh girl, I thought you’d never ask. Come on!” You rip open another portal with your scissors. “Let’s get the hell out of here!”

 

\----------

 

It takes most of the night, but you’re finally cornered. There’s three big guys all around you, and then Daddy himself floats majestically through a huge new portal.

“LILACIA!” He booms. “WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?”

“H-Hi, Daddy.”

“You were given many warnings. Saint Olga’s reform school is the best option for you, if you will one day inherit the throne. Do not make me regret naming you princess any more than you already have.”

You hate when Daddy is like this. It’s just so unfair! And what does he mean, if you’ll inherit the throne? Of course you will! You’re the oldest!

“So you’re sending her to jail?” B. Fly asks him. If his big, royal voice he uses for big, royal occasions bothers her, she sure as hell doesn’t look like it does. “That’s going to work out great.”

“Princess Star. I should call your parents.”

“You won’t.”

“It’s okay, B. Fly. I’ll go with them. Hold on to my scissors, okay?” You spit them out into her hand. Ugh, but those do taste unpleasant. “It’s gonna be fine, girl. I can’t run forever. Don’t get yourself in trouble for me.”

“You could run for a while…” She glares at your dad, who’s still focused on you. It’s not her fault you have family problems. You kind of always knew it would end like this. You just didn’t think Daddy would look so disappointed in you for running away. It’s not like he actually wants you around. Sending you to princess jail kind of proves it.

“It’s gonna be fine. Hey, B. Fly. Did I ever tell you we’re besties now?”

She looks super shocked, but not in a bad way. Just enough for her to turn and look at you with her big blue eyes. “We’re besties?”

“Yeah girl! I mean, we just talk online most of the time but...for real, Star. You’re cool. I’m sorry I lied to you like that, it was super un-princess-ly of me and I’ll never lie to you again.”

“...Don’t worry about it. Hey. I bet there are mirrors in princess jail, right? We can still talk.”

“I really, really hope so, B. Fly. Don’t forget about me, okay?”

“I won’t.” She promises, and you actually believe her. 

Daddy, satisfied that you’re actually going to follow him, disappears back into his portal. Guess it’s time to go. You’ve got a lot of packing to do if you’re going to leave tomorrow like you’re supposed to for orientation. If you had arms, you would squish B. Fly in a huge princess hug. Even if she doesn’t seem like the hugging type. 

“I’m your best friend.” You hear Earthturd, Marco, grumble.

“You’re my best friend on Earth. Pony is my best friend on Mewni.” You look back one more time to see B. Fly smiling up at you as she says “My best Mewni friend.”

It’s gonna be fine. You can do this.

 

\----------

 

Be Moon the Undaunted.

Despite your name, you are daunted indeed when Glossaryck calls a meeting with the full Magic High Commission. Such meetings are held only in times of emergency. You have not sat through such a meeting since your mother’s death. To say you do not look forward to it is a gross understatement. When you arrive, the others are already present--to include Glossaryck himself. 

Omnitraxus Prime and Hekapoo look as reluctant and concerned as you do. Only Lekmet is inscrutable, and Rhombulus has already been put in time-out for the meeting. They are all waiting for you to take your seat.

“Why have you called us here, Glossaryck?” Omni is the first to ask what you’re all thinking, and he manages to sound quite confident. “We all have a lot of work to do. What emergency could we face, when things are so peaceful in the land?”

“This meeting is about Princess Star Butterfly. Or rather,” He looks to you as he speaks. “Crowned Princess Astera Miriam Uhlayiss, as she refuses the Butterfly name.”

“She...refuses it?”

“Oh, no.” Hekapoo squeezes the edge of the table, eyes closed tight. “You said Uhlayiss, right? Uhlayiss as in Dread-Mother Miriam Uhlayiss, the Forgotten Blight Witch of Akaross, with her name stricken from all Mewman record? That Uhlayiss?”

“No!” Rhombulus yells over his shoulder. “She’s crystalized!”

Omni shakes his great skull head within his crystal ball. “She is indeed crystallized. All three of us supervised the event. Even you witnessed her imprisonment, Glossaryck. That was well over three hundred years ago.”

You clear your throat, drawing every eye in the room but those of your former mentor.

“Pardon. What did you say her name was?”

“Dread-Mother Miriam Uhlayiss, the Forgotten Blight Witch--”

“--Of Akaross. That is, if I am not mistaken, the former capital of Septarsis. What in corn is a Dread-Mother?”

All three advisors at the table share a look, but Glossaryck speaks before them.

“She was what the monsters call a broodmother, a female septarian who sacrifices parts of her body to bear the country’s children.”

“That is...disturbing, to say the least. Would someone please explain to me why we are here?”

“She is Star’s grandmother.” Your former mentor stops floating for a moment to sit down heavily on the table. “Toffee’s mother. It will be easier to show you. Hekapoo.”

“I’ll open the portal, but I don’t want to see her.”

“Me either!” Rhombulus yells over his shoulder again, getting him a resounding ‘shhhh!’ from his fellow council members. “I don’t! She’s evil!”

“We are all going.”

There’s an uproar at the table, but Glossaryck blinks and the entire Council (with the table along for the ride) appears in the crystal dimension. Uproarious disagreement becomes silence in an instant. You are still terribly confused. Toffee’s mother? 

He told you, years ago, that she died. Why did you believe him? Septarians can’t simply be killed. They’re beyond even the Magic High Commission’s abilities, if the woman is still crystallized after so long. If she lived during Solaria’s reign, she has been trapped even longer than Queen Eclipsa.

“Moon.” All traces of Glossaryck’s usual quirky behavior are gone when he calls for you to follow him. “If no one will come with us, you need to see her.”

“I’m not certain I want to.”

“You must. Come.”

Glossaryck leads you down a dark, claustrophobic corridor that seems to go on forever. There are several twists and turns, as though you’re in a maze rather than a hall, and several sets of stairs along with the stale air suggest you’re underground. At the end of the increasingly thinner corridor is a single, too-small door. Glossaryck bids Rhombulus to open the crystal sealing it closed.

“I don’t want to,” he says, but does so anyway. Lekmet bleats unhappily.

You weren’t at all prepared for what lays beyond the comically short door. Crystal melts away in bright blue light, and you are face to face with fangs longer than your fingers in a gaping, blood-red maw of razor-sharp teeth poised to strike. Even you stumble back. Hekapoo screeches, nearly tossing Omni at the crystalized beast in her surprise.

“I messed up.” Rhombulus says. “She...got loose.”

Glossaryck raises one small, seven-fingered hand and the whole crystal structure is pushed away from the door. One by one, your whole party ducks beneath the low doorframe to stand in a chamber even more heavily lined with crystal than Queen Eclipsa’s chamber.

Miriam Uhlayiss is twice your height, perhaps more. One of her arms is easily the size of your leg, and she wields a pair of bent scimitars, one in each hand--one in two of her six hands. You thought it a trick of the light, but Hekapoo lights the torches lining the room with a flick of her wrist and there can be no doubt. Each of her six arms trails broken chains, blackened iron stark against her white scales still streaked with blood the same color as her hair. 

She has a snake’s thick lower half that blends into her bare torso and fire glinting too-bright in her frozen eyes, the very picture of barbaric power. You have never seen a Septarian so...unmewman. Tangled red hair whips behind her, a frozen impression of movement. Everything about her frightens you, despite how she’s imprisoned.

“This is Star’s grandmother.” Glossaryck says. 

“She can’t be.” Hekapoo whispers. “I killed her son. She had no others.”

He continues as though he didn’t hear Hekapoo speak. “This can’t leave the Magic High Council. No one can know we have her, especially her son. Her granddaughter. Star is threatening me, Moon, and there may not be much time before she loses her temper again. We have a lot to discuss.”

 

\-----------

Spell Glossary

_“Ipsum Stabilis”_  
Direct translation: Steady yourself

_“Hoc spatio opus,_  
Non oportet crescere.  
Falsa spatii addere,  
Superius et inferius.”  
(This translation is definitely more poetic, but as close to literal as I could get it while trying to make a nice, meaningful-sounding spell.)  
Translation:  
This space I need,  
It must grow.  
Add false space,  
Above and below.

_“Ostium”_  
Direct translation: Doorway

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From now on I'm going to be making notes at the end whenever Star learns or uses a new spell. I have a lot of theories on Erstwhile's (monster) magic. Some of you might recognize the schools of magic from good old D&D rules. What can I say? It's a good system. Hit me up if you like magical worldbuilding though and we can discuss finer points I probably won't write out to avoid info-dumping on y'all.
> 
> As always, thank you for comments/kudos. If you're reading this, you are all wild, untamed royal horse spirits in a magic land. None of you deserve to go to princess jail.


	8. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Get ready to see Queen Moon and Toffee at their worst and least reasonable. It's rough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so far this story has been pretty tame (skullfucking threats aside) but I think this chapter's a lot rougher. We're gonna get into some skeevy past deeds from everyone's favorite Lizard Daddy and some of that famous Mewman Racism. Hang on to your hats and coats, gents, family law is never fun.

You are Queen Moon the Undaunted, and you dress yourself this morning with the intent to face Toffee of Septarsis once more. This time you do not march for a battlefield. He will meet you in your element, and you will dress yourself to reflect that you are the Queen of Mewni. 

This is a battle you won’t fight astride dearly departed Lil Chauncey. This time, you’re not a little girl facing an army of monsters with nothing but your wand and River’s apology meat for company. You are a queen now, and Toffee is your subject whether he likes or (more likely) loathes that fact.

There is much to discuss with the father of your only child. It should be River, you think, powdering your face before carefully applying your warpaint in the form of lipstick. River should be Star’s father. You imagine, not for the first time, how much simpler your life would be if River was the only man you ever cared for. If only it were so. If only you had grown up more quickly, and trusted less freely.

Seeing Toffee again is never a pleasant experience. Once he was nothing more than the rogue monster who murdered your mother, and you would so like him to be that again--but the mind is complicated. For every hateful thought that darkens your heart, your mind plays for you moments where he was not so loathsome. He did not always make clear his hate for you when you entered a room. 

The day you scattered his rogue monster army was the day you took him prisoner. After all, the man who murdered a Queen of Mewni can’t simply walk away mostly unscathed. You knew you could not kill him without freeing Eclipsa. What you did not consider was how you could contain him for the rest of time and eternity if he is not dead. It is a shortcoming Glossaryck was quick to point out.

“I will work that out as we go,” you told him, feeling proud of your very adult answer. If only you could go back and tell that girl how poorly she would work things out. 

The you of the past was too kind. Too forgiving. Too willing to listen. Now when you see him you are plagued by memories of a different time, a happy deceit. A general protecting his men, who did not kill your mother, looks up at you in memories with a lazy smile. He’s pleased to see you, his princess. His. You were to marry River within the year, the one nobleman you can stand. He’s a lovely man. 

But he is not Toffee, your Toffee. Your secret love. The man you stole away from meetings to see is not River, but your captive, charming monster general, favored monster advisor after years of stolen rendezvous and ever-improving quarters for him. How could you have ever believed he killed your mother? Toffee would never kill someone without good reason. 

How could you have been so stupid, Moon? 

You know better, these days. He’s waiting for you beyond the portal in a grand room you have never seen. Clean white tile frames dark furniture and a full waterfall down one wall, bookshelves filling the room ceiling to floor and broken by large stretches of glass. For a moment you think yourself in the wrong place, sparing the magicked waterfall across from you a surprised once-over, but Toffee sits at one dark, substantial wooden desk with a book in hand.

“Queen Moon.” He addresses you without looking up. “You are late.”

“A Queen of Mewni is never late. Where have you taken me?”

“Can’t you tell? Star made a few changes. She’s learning very quickly.” 

“I suppose she is.” Though she’s learning all the wrong things, in your opinion. How to effectively threaten someone, to begin with. “Do put your book away, Toffee. I don’t intend to be here for very long.”

“You wound me with your impatience. We were close once, after all.”

“Once.” But no longer. 

“Ah, so long ago. I assume you’re here to discuss my daughter?”

“Yes. I’ll cut to the chase. Star has threatened Glossaryck and the Royal Book of Spells.” You clear your throat pointedly when he smiles. “This is no laughing matter. Did you put her up to this?”

“Did I? Of course not, but as I said. She’s learning very quickly.”

“Glossaryck told me she found another magic teacher. Is that true?”

“Yes, she purchased him at Quest Buy. He calls himself Erstwhile.”

“He’s a septarian.”

“That’s true. More specifically, he is Chameleon. They're even rarer than the Varanese, since your mother destroyed their land.”

“Don’t bring my mother into this. Glossaryck says this Erstwhile,” What a strange name. “Is teaching her dark magic. Is that true?”

“Of course not. Though I recognize your idea of dark magic likely differs from mine. He’s teaching her our people’s magical conventions. A rich magical history largely lost during the war and destruction in our dimension. She’s very fortunate to have him.”

“You would think so.”

“Regardless of your opinion, he saved her life. We owe him a great deal. If this is his price, a measure of influence over her, I think that’s perfectly reasonable. My knowledge of ‘monstrous’ magic is fairly limited.”

“I would like to know why her life was endangered, to begin with.”

So this is where the argument will begin, you think, watching him draw into himself. You hoped to get to Glossaryck’s issues (with a few careful omissions) before this, but you’ll take what you can get. If you let this thread slip away, Toffee will never let you come back to it. Damn lawyer.

“Ah,” He leans back in his chair, unbothered by your harsh tone. “Life is dangerous, Your Majesty. Life for a half-monster is considerably more dangerous.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Ludo and his degenerate monster army want the Royal Wand. They show up regularly to bother Star, but she handles them well. It’s good practice for her. I try not to interfere.”

“I see. You have, however, interfered before?”

“Of course I have. They’re fully grown monsters, though none of them her caliber. Ludo has been known, on occasion, to overstep himself--but I’ve handled it.”

“You call mortally wounding his men ‘handling it?’”

Instead of pausing like you hoped he would, Toffee laughs. Marvelous.

“Most of their wounds day-to-day are Star’s doing. She’s not helpless, you see, and dislikes being bothered. I was the same way at her age.” He isn’t at all bothered by your best queen-ly glare. If anything, he seems amused by it in a surprisingly non-threatening kind of way you’ve come to not expect. “But you must have a specific example. Let me guess. Ludo tattled to you. Was it the shots fired in Fantasy Costco?”

“...Pardon?”

“Apologies. That’s what Star and Marco call Quest Buy.”

“Get to the point, Toffee.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” On his lips, your honorific manages to sound like an insult. There’s a split second of regret from you, knowing you’ve insulted him by shunting away polite conversation. Civility is a distant dream now. He clears his throat. “I purchased a human weapon Ludo has no experience with. He likely mistook it for magic, came to some far-flung conclusion about who Star is and why we’re in the Earth dimension, and wrote to you hoping for brownie points and maybe a bit of corn.”

He isn’t wrong. You try to read his expression and come up with nothing. Toffee is and has always been inscrutable to you, that is, when he isn’t actively trying to broadcast an emotion. 

“You don’t possess any magical artifacts?”

“Guns aren’t magic, Your Majesty. They’re human science.”

“Show me your gun.”

He snorts at you. “Show me the letter Ludo undoubtedly sent you instead of appearing in person.”

It’s childish, but you put Ludo’s letter down on the table a bit harder than strictly necessary. He, in turn, produces a sleek silver wand from his suit jacket and places it carefully beside the letter on the desk. It’s a pretty thing, all well-forged steel and pretty filigree down the barrel. You stare at it for just a split second too long.

“You may as well have a seat, Your Majesty. Don’t worry, the gun isn’t loaded. Wouldn’t want you putting out one of the windows.”

Or you, you want to counter, but keep your mouth shut as he picks up the letter you’ve read a hundred times by now. You could practically recite it as he reads.

“ _Unto Her Majesty, Queen Moon Butterfly the Undaunted. General Ludo of the last remaining Monster Army sends his regards..._ yes, but he always did like his formalities. I suppose there’s no point in doing things half-way. His penmanship is still dreadful.”

“Read on.”

“ _I have discovered some very interesting information about General Toffee of Septarsis, also called The Lizard._ ” He laughs. “I haven’t been called that in ages. _I regret to tell you he has escaped execution and is living with a mewman woman on Earth. Though he was declared dead by you and your court fifteen years ago, he visited my estate one week from the day I am writing this letter and threatened to harm my men and I for discovering his mistress and daughter._ ”

“Well?” You feel impatience rising as he continues to read, only for you to cut him off. “Did you go to Castle Avarius, Toffee?”

“I did.”

“Did you threaten Ludo and his men?”

“Threatening implies I wouldn’t follow through. I gave them a cordial, customary warning of what would happen should they actually hurt my daughter.”

Grudgingly, you accept that. “Read on.”

“ _His appearance was very upsetting. As you know, I served as a squire in General Toffee’s army_ \--and did a piss-poor job, might I add. _Though I sent my parents away from Castle Avarius, I am still loyal to the Butterfly crown._ Clearly not, as he regularly harasses the crowned princess.”

“He doesn’t know who she is. He thinks the Diaz family is your family, and Star is Angela Diaz’s daughter.”

“So I assumed. Just between us.” His private little smile has a sharp edge of disdain. “One parent to another, if I can call you that, I know Star would prefer that.”

“You think I don’t know that? Read on. You’re nearly finished.”

“ _There is more information I can’t write in a letter, for fear that someone will read this before you are able. Please come to Castle Avarius for the rest of the information. Bring corn. Your Obedient Servant,_ ” He struggles not to laugh, obviously biting back a criticism. “ _L. Avarius  
General of the last Monster Army._ Hilarious. He almost comes across as intelligent in writing. One of his men must have written this.”

“And why do you say that?”

He gives you a disgusted look. “You’ve met him, haven’t you? Or have you not had the pleasure face to face.”

“Once. I found him odd, but compassionate and open to suggestions.” More than you can say about Toffee, though you suppose that comes from Toffee being a real general at one point. While Ludo isn’t usually a problem, he’s no general. “Which is why I would like to know why you didn’t handle this matter earlier.”

“He’s been warned away twice.”

“Clearly to little effect.”

“That’s hardly my fault. Why are you here, Moon?”

You take a deep breath, hold it a moment for strength, and then choose your words very carefully as you speak. “This is a problem, Toffee. We’re lucky he came to this conclusion, and not something closer to the truth. Do you think I relish the idea of paying off Ludo behind my council’s back?”

“There are simpler solutions. Executing him, for example.” 

“That’s not an option for me.”

“I’d suggest you imprison him, but knowing your history with monstrous prisoners,” He smirks. “That would compound the problem. The last thing you need is another ‘monstrous’ child.”

“Have a care, Toffee. I am still your Queen.”

“You’re not my queen. Don’t lose hope, though--Ludo would probably call you his Queen in whatever setting you want.”

“If you have something to say, say it directly.”

Toffee gives you a surprisingly graceful shrug. “Alright. You’re a slut, I hate you, and this is your problem. Not mine.”

Well, that sets your blood boiling. 

How dare you? You want to shriek and throw things, wish the gun in your hand was loaded, but the contract that binds him also binds you. If you hurt him, the contract is broken. Something he’s no doubt aware of as he watches you with detached amusement, cataloguing your every reaction with perfect apathy. How dare he, when he willfully seduced you?! This is as much his fault as yours! There is no possible way he didn’t hope for this, this outcome, this power he holds over you now in the form of your worst secret. How dare he?!

“You told me to be direct.” He helpfully reminds you, drawing you from your enraged thoughts before you can start shouting like a child. “Here is the direct truth. Ludo is no threat to my daughter or myself. With any luck, our last encounter dissuaded him from bothering us again. If not? I don’t care about political backlash, so long as it’s far away from Star.”

“...What’s your game, Toffee?”

“Pardon?”

“Why have you done all of this? What are you gaining right now?” Even as you think of all the reasons you shouldn’t ask this, you continue. “Where is all of this getting you?”

For once, Toffee is too surprised to say something.

“...Where is this getting me?” He shakes his head, and surprise gives way to surprising disappointment. “Oh, Moon. What do you think I’ve gained?”

“I don’t know!”

“I’ve gained a daughter.” He snaps, as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “She is, despite all the ugliness surrounding her hatching, perfect in every conceivable way. She is what I’ve gained, and my _game_ is her freedom and happiness.”

“Oh, be serious.”

“I am so unbelievably serious.”

“Then tell the truth!”

“The truth is that I’ve traded everything I had left after the war for her, and I’d trade more still. Ludo returns and lives because she enjoys sparring with him, and the gods know I can’t deny her a bit of fun in the middle of this shitshow. That _you’re_ putting her through,” He adds, words dipping to what you call 'poisonously quiet' as he continues. “Ludo is a harmless fool. You’ve killed most of his countrymen, why not him? I’ll do it myself if it means you’ll leave. Right now.”

“I’m not leaving. How can you say that? How could you not realize--realize that this could mean death to innocent monsters, just letting them _see_ her? You’re fine with that? Truly?”

“Listen very carefully, Moon, because I won't repeat what you should already know. I have lost everything. My country, my family, my _mate_ \--” His voice catches on the last word, the worst loss. “Everything that I fought for is gone. Believe me when I say Star is all I care about, and we can have a real discussion. If not, you should go. We won’t get anywhere but into another argument today.”

Nothing you know about this man suggests he’s telling the truth. But he’s finished talking, staring you down as though daring you to argue, and you recognize there’s no argument you could make that wouldn’t devolve into insults and throwing things. There’s something about his smug composure that makes you feel young and out of control again. You can’t give in to that impulse. So you cross your ankles carefully, place your hands in your lap, remind yourself that you’re a queen and continue on to the reason you came here at all.

Smoothly, carefully, you place another letter face-down on the table. Ludo’s interference is an issue, yes, but it isn’t the only reason you came. That was simply the cherry on top of your morning when it came careening through your bedroom window and into the back of your head. The letter you present now is the reason you scheduled this meeting.

“Star needs to appear before the Magic High Commission.” You tell him, trying to keep your tone as cool as his expression as he stares down at the purple-and-white envelope sealed with the Commission’s official seal in white wax.

He doesn’t move to pick up the letter. “Why?”

“She threatened Glossaryck and the Royal Book of Spells, Toffee. Did you not know about that?”

“Of course I know. A threat from a child is hardly a serious--”

“She threatened to remove Queen Eclipsa’s notorious chapter from the book and burn the rest when her teacher spoke against having a co-teacher. That is a solemn threat, and one the Magic High Commission takes very seriously.”

“It was necessary, of course. He would prefer she reads books about slaying monsters and giving her biased Mewman History lessons. How else will she learn what she needs to, with that kind of precedent?”

“The Royal Book of Spells has instructed generations of my family, and instructed them well. You can’t possibly believe your daughter is too good to learn the way every princess before her has learned.”

“She isn’t like every other princess, unless they were all secretly Varanese, raised with a competent teacher since childhood? I taught her the truth. She doesn’t need half the lessons most princesses do.”

“You can’t know the truth, Toffee, no one can. It was centuries ago.”

“In living memory. My living memory, as it so happens--or did you forget that? I’ve seen every Queen of Mewni since Festiva rise and fall again. I witnessed what they did to monsterkind. To Septarsis and the settlements in Mewni. I studied law and medicine in the Grand Library in the school district of Verspool, prized station of the Empire, long before Comet burnt it. I know the truth. Star knows the truth.”

“You taught her a version of the truth.”

“We know the history that isn’t written by the victors. What did you think she would learn, Moon, when you gave her to me? Did you think I’d teach her to love you and your people?” 

“No. Of course I didn’t. I thought she would listen to reason if it came to this.”

“Oh, she’s very reasonable. You’re just short on reason.”

“Just giving her to you was the wrong choice. I was young and frightened. It was a mistake. I should have kept her with me, kept her in a glamour, she would have never known--”

“Of course she would know.”

“By the time she knew, she would have grown up a princess. A well-mannered, sweet-tempered princess. We wouldn’t even be in this position. There would be time to help her adjust, but she could start from a place of kindness.”

“Spoken like someone who cares nothing for Star’s safety.”

"For the second time today, I will remind you to have a care in how you speak to me, Toffee. She's still my daughter." Despite how he wants to pretend otherwise. You still birthed the girl for corn’s sake, thought of her over the years, wondered who she was and how things could have been--but you made your choice and there was no turning back.

“So you plan to file her claws and throw her to your court? What do you think will happen then?”

“She wouldn’t need to see the Magic High Commission for threatening Glossaryck!” 

“She wouldn’t see them for any reason, because she would be dead! Being faster and fiercer than your enemies is how our people survive, and if you raised her like that you could have commissioned a coffin as her cradle and saved some gold. She’d be dead.”

“She’s septarian! That isn’t possible!”

“ _Varanese_ ,” Toffee snarls. “And that’s why people would hurt her. Your own court would have her killed, or worse, and at her age--”

“You think I don’t know that?!”

“I don’t think you do!”

“She’s practically invincible!”

He’s closer to proper shouting than you have ever seen him. “No, she isn’t!”

“...What?”

That cannot be true. Septarians are famous for their immortality. If there is one good thing to come of Astera’s birth, it is the lack of threat usually posed by assassination. 

“...She’s a child, Moon. She can’t survive truly severe injuries, and she may never be able to regenerate as I can--I don’t know. No one knows. She’s one of a kind. I couldn’t bring myself to...to test her limits. She can die, Moon, but I won’t let that happen. She has to defend herself.” 

“And just how is threatening Glossaryck and the family legacy defending herself?!”

“She doesn’t trust him. Trust is a luxury some of us can’t afford.” He says that so pointedly you want to slap him.

“Why not? I trusted you once.” You speak just as pointedly. He knows what he did to you thirteen years ago, and he knows why even if you don’t. “Does that mean nothing?”

“It means you’re fucking stupid.”

“...This was a terrible idea.” Feeling equal parts defeated and furious, you settle for sitting down heavily in a nearby chair. “This is not how I should have handled this. I should have kept her in the palace, away from the public until she came into her own, but not in the dungeons. She should never have known you.”

“Oh, how predictable.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what I said! Raising her weak wouldn’t be enough, you want train her in a cage like an animal.”

“And what do you expect, Toffee? She is half animal. Look at you.”

It’s so satisfying to say the one thing you know will enrage him. Thirteen years ago, he told you how he hated being called an animal. He was so elegant then, telling you of his life and evoking your childish pity. Now you are truly Queen Moon the Undaunted. Now Toffee can only hiss, further proving your point. His eyes are wild as any animal’s, teeth barely concealed behind his lips.

“It is not,” He manages to speak in an almost-ordinary voice, but you can still hear the hissing under it. “Animalistic, to be angry.”

“It is when you can’t even speak. This is why no one listens to your people, Toffee, and why I refuse to treat you like an equal. You lose your temper, and people are hurt. I can’t reason with you.”

“And here I thought calling me an animal was beneath you. Apparently not, you--” He bites back the insult on the tip of his tongue. “--If you want to _reason_ with me, bring something reasonable to talk about.”

“Nothing is ever reasonable with your kind.” Which you know is unfair to say, but you want this conversation to be over. Delivering any of this information in person was a mistake.

To your credit, it’s moments like this remind you what he really is, regardless of how he feels. He may wear a suit and speak prettily sometimes, read and write like anyone else, even pretend to love--but in the end, he’s another beast. He’s just a monster. Former Queens came to this same conclusion. How could it take you so long, to such disastrous consequences? You couldn’t be satisfied with a historical account, and this is your punishment. 

Even now you see him straining to defy his nature, resist all the instincts urging him to attack you instead of talking like a civilized being. Star is his fault, but you know now that you should have never let him raise her away from you. This is the only example she’s ever had. How will she ever be a Queen of Mewni?

“The date, time, and location of Star’s hearing is listed in the official summons.” You tell him cooly, standing and brushing your skirts lightly until they straighten out. For better or worse, you’re finished here. “She must arrive ten minutes early, with no magic items or devices. Including the wand. You will accompany her, with no one else.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was certainly something! As always, thank you from the bottom of my heart for kudos/comments. You're all poised, dignified queens who never lose their tempers.


	9. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Star goes to her official MHC hearing, and Moon thinks really hard about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all, hope you enjoy!

Be Star, watching your dad do your hair in the mirror across from you. He always looks really serious when he’s trying to make your hair behave, and he doesn’t approve of using magic for silly things like doing your hair. 

It takes a minute to get your unly hair into a nice, formal updo, but you don’t mind. Getting fussed over this morning helps you not feel so nervous, and Papa knows that. He finishes with your hair and straightens out your coat.

“You look lovely.” He says, leading you into a little twirl. “I only wish we were going somewhere nice.”

“Well, the Bureaucracy of Magic is probably pretty cool, right? The magic part sounds cool, anyways. I wonder why we aren’t allowed to bring anything magic.”

“They don’t want people being reprimanded at full power. Their sensors will not, however, notice non-magical weaponry. Fortunately for us.”

That’s true. You nod, feeling the knife in your right boot even more acutely than before. Even if you haven’t seen it, you know Papa has his gun under his suit jacket. There’s a whole plan if something goes wrong. He has his dimensional scissors, since Hekapoo (the woman who forges the scissors) isn’t likely to confiscate them. He can’t un-earn them. It’s not like the mewmans control that, since Hekapoo isn’t mewman--or doesn’t look it, as Papa says, knowing there’s a difference. 

You don’t care for the idea of a Magic High Commission. Sure, oversight with something like magic is good. There are all kinds of dangers and consequences. It’s like humans and their nuclear weapons. People have to be careful not to upset the natural order of things too much. Even if you kind of feel like Queens of Mewni (always members of the Commission) are the worst offenders of magical laws, because of course they are. Why wouldn’t all the other Commission members be exactly the same way?

So in short, you’re not looking forward to this. Glossaryck forced your hand, and now you’re going to get a lecture. A slap on the wrist. At least the Magic High Commission knows you’re Varanese. You get to wear your real face to the hearing. It’s comforting to be able to see yourself in the mirror and not some pale, blue-eyed stranger looking back at you. You’re admiring how your scales catch the light when Marco comes rocketing past you.

“Star, great! I wanted to see you before you go. Do you, uh,” He seems a little off-guard. “Wow, you look nice. But do you know when you’ll be back?”

“Just in time for your tournament, I hope.”

“You remembered!”

“Yeah I did, silly. I’m really excited! It’s always so cool, and I want to see you kick that Jeremy kid’s ass.”

Papa clears his throat.

“...His butt. I said butt. But even though the Commission’s got a weird rule about overnight deliberations with formal hearings, I’ll totally be back to hold the sign I made. No way I’m wasting that great glitter-glue work, and we definitely have to go somewhere with Ferguson and Alfonzo after. My treat.” You promise, grinning at him. “It’s gonna be awesome.”

“Hey, Star?” 

“Yeah?”

He hugs you, only slightly wrinkling your coat. Who even cares? You hug him back even tighter, lift him off the ground a little and squish him like always while he gasps. Coats can be unwrinkled, but no one can un-hug your best friend. 

“You’re the best friend a guy could have, you know?”

“Oh, definitely.” You set him down carefully. “But you’re the best friend a lizard space princess could have. I’ll be there, if I gotta fight my way back.”

“Just be careful.” Which is, of course, something he always says. Silly Marco. Who needs careful when you’re indestructible? “And good luck, okay? You’re gonna do great.” 

“I hope so. Going back to jail would suck. Even if it’s princess jail, and I get to see Pony again.”

“Can they do that?”

“Nope. Not unless they sent my dad, but I kinda think that would defeat the purpose of sending me to reform school to brainwash me. Crusty old Saint Olga’s is the kind of place that actively tries to avoid lawyers blowing up their spot. My dad would throw so much red tape on them they couldn’t open their doors in the next century.”

“Man, I love legal revenge.”

“It’ll be great. And like I said,” You grin and relish how all your teeth show when you catch a glimpse in the mirror--but relish even more how it doesn’t scare Marco at all anymore. “I’ll be back. Whatever it takes.”

What you don’t see, after stepping through the portal, is the hellish black carriage ascending from a rift in the ground right outside your window. You don’t see Marco cower behind your work desk as the real window outside your illusion open or the well-dressed young man who falls inside of the room when he enters the illusion and the window suddenly expands. 

That will be something you can resolve when you get back.

 

\----------

 

Be Queen Moon, sitting at the grand table in the windowed Bureaucracy of Magic penthouse suite, waiting for Star and Toffee to arrive.

You won’t enjoy seeing Toffee again so soon after losing your temper. What you said in anger now haunts you any time you have a spare second to think about it. He must have told Star what you said, and you doubt he mentioned any of the terrible things he said to you. Guilt isn’t something Toffee is familiar with. ‘And should he be?’ a part of you wonders. How much of what he said was wrong?

Now that you aren’t so angry, you know what you said was wrong. Both you and Toffee were behaving badly. What you have to reckon with now is Star likely knowing what you said, and never forgiving you for it. She shouldn’t have to forgive that. You wonder if Toffee told her what he said about you, and even more--does she agree with him? Should she disagree? 

This hearing seemed like such a good idea two weeks ago, but it makes your stomach churn more and more the longer you sit in your uncomfortable chair. Threatening Glossaryck is a serious matter, but this isn’t how you should handle it. This is far too much. The girl grew up in a dungeon, for corn’s sake. For all Toffee says he taught her, word-of-mouth education is no substitute for experience with the real world and what one can or can’t say. Star is doing remarkably well for a little girl who, until very recently, only knew one person in her entire life.

What were you thinking? How did you let that go on for so long, just leaving her in a cell where you didn’t have to think about her? Why did you do that? Why would anyone do that?! This is what you think about, looking nervously around the table at the rest of the Commission. You hope Glossaryck knows what he’s doing, because you don’t and it’s far too quiet in this room.

“This was a terrible idea.” You say, very quietly, not sure if you mean bringing Star here or something else entirely. 

Hekapoo nods nervously. In your opinion, she looks like she hasn’t slept well since the last Commission meeting. If her puffy eyes and red nose are any kind of evidence, she’s also been crying. No one has said anything about it. They must know why she’s upset.

“I don’t even know what to expect. The last time I saw Toffee outside of a trial, he was twenty-two and going to school.” She twiddles her fingers nervously. “You and Glossaryck are the only ones here to even meet the princess. Toffee didn’t even look like the same person during his trial. I didn’t even realize who he was.”

“...You met him that long ago?”

“He earned a pair of scissors,” She mumbles. “And it took him less than a year. I didn’t know who he was. It should have been harder. I didn’t expect...I didn’t expect him to do so well. Look at what happened.”

“Can’t you take the scissors away?”

“Short answer? No. The long answer...probably not. There’s rules about who loses their scissors, but he hasn’t broken any. It’s stuff like annexing dimensions for personal gain, or really big, long-term stuff like that. He hasn’t done any of the stuff that would get them taken away.” 

“So?” Rhombulus grumbles. “He’s evil.” 

“So I can’t just take them, you idiot. His scissors are even soul-bound. That’s an extra trial. Unless he does something specifically outlined in the scissor contracts, I physically cannot take his scissors away. That’s just how it is Rhom! Don’t you think I tried?!”

“Hekapoo, please. There’s no need to shout.” You put a hand on her shoulder. “I daresay he wouldn’t need his scissors to commit any of his crimes thus far. You had no way of knowing who he would grow into.”

Rhombulus grumbles something else, more quietly. You decide to ignore him in favor of listening to Omni’s words of comfort to his friend.

“These things happen, Hekapoo. I don’t envy your work. It must be very difficult…”

Lekmet bleats in agreement. Rhombulus is still grumbling, but looking at the rest of the Commission pointedly as he grumbles increasingly louder. Is he...trying to get their attention? You don’t know. When has Rhombulus done anything reasonable?

“I’ve thought so much about it, guys.” Hekapoo lays her head down on the table, facing you as she talks. “Toffee can’t be the Dread-Mother’s son. He doesn’t even look like her, and I...I told you, Moon. Her son died.”

“You said before that you killed him.”

“I did.” She whispers. “Varanese kids are tough, but I…”

“Were there witnesses?” You ask her, carefully neutral. No one has told you what the Dread-Mother did to be imprisoned. It’s not unheard of, in war, to execute family members, regardless of how deplorable you find the idea. Without knowing the circumstances, it’s not your place to judge her.

“No. No one wanted to watch. I didn’t want to watch. He was so little.”

Hekapoo does the one thing she could to surprise you. She starts to cry. In all your years as a queen, you’ve never seen her upset, much less crying. All you can do is put a hand on her back to comfort her.

“He was so little.” She sniffles, looking up at you. “I said I’d do it. We were trying to interrogate the Dread-Mother, but she healed so fast we couldn’t even torture her without some really, really dark magic. We’re not allowed to do dark magic, so I...he wasn’t even evil, Moon. Not like she was. But I just, I just…” 

“Evil people are born evil!” Rhombulus shouts, before clapping a snake-hand over his mouth.

She sits up in a blur of fire and fury to lunge at him over the table. “SHUT UP, RHOMBULUS!”

If two Commission members fighting isn’t bad enough, their fight is interrupted by someone not at the table pointedly clearing their throat. Omnitraxus could have at least warned you all they were coming upstairs. Surely he could see them coming.

“....Gentlemen.”

Of course Toffee would pick this moment to enter the room, with Star in tow. If he looks unimpressed, she looks downright disgusted. You wonder with a sudden lurch of panic how much they heard--if anything, before Hekapoo lost her temper. Neither of them comments out loud on the aborted fight as both commissioners regain their seats. Toffee pulls out a chair for his daughter in the exact spirit of something you hated when you were her age, but Star sits down with a quiet ‘thank you.’ 

She’s wearing the same carefully-cultivated, neutral look of boredom as her father. Side by side they look so similar you feel a bit sick. Only Star’s be-hearted cheeks and well-tamed blue curls remind you that she has any other blood than his--though you see, sitting across from her, the faintest tinge of green in her eyes. You never noticed that. Maybe it’s a sign, you think, even knowing that’s absurd. Maybe you can reason with her in a way you can never reason with Toffee, and maybe there’s enough of you in her to…

You don’t know the end of that thought, and there’s no time to finish it before Toffee speaks.

“I trust you have a good reason for depriving my daughter of two full school days?” If being in the full Commission’s presence concerns him, there’s no tell of it in his irritated tone. 

This might as well be an inconveniently scheduled company meeting for all he seems to be cowed by all six of you, but you should have expected that. As far as you know, the man isn’t afraid of anything. You decide to speak, if Glossaryck won’t. He’s been very quiet since you arrived. He must be thinking very hard about something, though you can’t guess what.

“We’re sorry for the inconvenience.” Instinctively, you shoot Rhombulus your best ‘don’t say a word’ glare before he can argue. “Truly. Star’s time is valuable. This hearing will serve two purposes. Since she will be queen, it’s important that she meets the Magic High Commission. She will, after all, one day join our ranks.”

Star’s disinterest breaks into something resembling annoyance, but she looks up from the table and directly into your eyes. “I see. Papa, may I please have the letter of summons?”

Her father procures the familiar purple-and-white piece of stationary from seemingly nowhere, along with another faintly-glowing stack of papers you know to be the contract Star demanded and a small, leather-bound book he sets carefully beside it. Ignoring the other papers, not so much as breaking eye contact with you, Star slides the letter to sit in front of her. 

“I am here answering to, as I understand from the summons, two counts of criminal threat against Sir Glossaryck of Terms. Will I be tried for misdemeanors, or felonies?”

“Star, you aren’t on trial here.”

“Interesting. That’s not what the summons suggest, though I see…” She makes a very casual show of looking over the letter. “That you failed to specify the nature of this hearing. Am I attending a disciplinary hearing, or not?”

“You are not.”

“Am I being detained?”

“Pardon?”

Star grits her teeth impatiently. “Am I free to leave whenever I want?”

“Yes. Of course you are.”

“Oh. Good, then.” She starts to stand and the rest of the Commission (barring Glossaryck) starts up arguing before her father can get a hand on her shoulder.

“Star.” 

“Fine.” Star slumps back into her chair, looking balefully up at you once more. “I might miss my best friend’s karate tournament because of this.”

“Star.” Her father repeats warningly. She sits up straight again, but looks no less unhappy to be here. That’s something you can sympathize with. 

What ever a karate is, she looks very sad to be missing it. If you’re trying to start easing tensions with her, that’s something you should have thought about. 

“I’m very sorry for that.” You tell her, finding you actually mean it. “It was rude to schedule this without consulting you.”

“Are you--” Kidding, Omni starts, but you wave him off without looking away from Star. If you look closely, she isn’t nearly as guarded as her father. You see the barest hint of surprise to match the bare hint of blue in her eyes. A sign. “...We’re all gods here, Princess Astera.”

“Princess Uhlayiss.” She corrects him sharply. “And you are gods, but gods who supposedly serve the crown. If I will wear the crown, then you will serve me with common courtesy.”

“It’s a mall karate tournament.” He says.

“No, it’s the first time I get to see my best friend perform. Because, you know. I grew up in a dungeon with no friends and no karate tournaments. Tia Angie and I even made a really big, glittery sign for it. You all owe me the chance to do normal kid things before I have to be a real grown-up, and you know it. That’s what I’m trying to do on Earth. So why am I here?”

No one at the table answers her, and that seems to agitate her more. She looks from you to Hekapoo to Lekmet. To Omni, to Rhombulus, to finally rest her gaze on Glossaryck.

“Why am I here?”

It’s now that Glossaryck finally speaks. “Why do you think you’re really here?”

“Well, I don’t know. Could it have something to do with the reason on the summon that’s apparently bullshit?” She winces, momentarily embarrassed instead of annoyed. “...Incorrect. Excuse me. That was rude.”

“Do you think you should be punished with a hearing for arguing with me?”

“No. You’re my teacher, but I have a responsibility for my own learning. If I have to be Queen someday, then I have to know everything I possibly can. It’s my duty and right to decide what I think is relevant.”

“Ast--Star, dear,” You cut in carefully. “You’ll be the Queen of Mewni. It’s important to know our history, however unpleasant it is to read.”

“I’m not your dear, and that’s stupid. I don’t want to read about Queen Solaria trying to burn her Varanese prisoners alive, to see if it killed them. She even wrote a whole bit about how they begged and how to not feel sorry for what you’re doing. It didn’t even kill any of the soldiers. Just kids.” She adds, very quietly. “Like me. I don’t want to read about that.”

“It’s still history, how ever unpleasant it may be.”

“It’s a chapter full of war crimes! But I never even said I wouldn’t study the rest of your stupid, racist book!” She slams one delicate fist down on the table, surprising you with her strength as the table rattles and her harsh, narrowed eyes as they fix on your old teacher. “I said I hated just learning about a bunch of crusty old ladies I have nothing in common with all the time, who think they know everything!” 

“The Royal Book of Spells is a comprehensive guide to--”

“It’s only one book! You don’t want Erstwhile to teach me different magic, but that’s so stupid because you’ve been around loads longer than I have and I don’t know why you people can’t understand that _all knowledge is good knowledge!_ No one ever died for knowing too much about a situation and you know it!”

An uncomfortable silence falls over the room and lingers like the echo of her raised voice on the vaulted ceiling. None of the commissioners will look at her, save for Glossaryck. He’s unreadable on the best of days, but just now you can see the glimmer of delight in his eyes.

“Is it?” He asks.

“Yes! Even stuff I won’t ever do is important to know. But I’m not even learning anything evil.” She crosses her arms stubbornly while she talks. “And you know it. Master Erstwhile is teaching me about schools of magic, and language theory. That’s not evil! It’s just different, and it’s a lot easier for me than throwing fireballs or whatever with the wand. Papa, my I please have my book?”

Toffee hands her the little, leather-bound book. It’s her lesson notebook, you realize, when she opens it to a page labelled ‘Schools of Magic’ in careful, curlicue letters.

“I have here a record of all my lessons so far. Glossaryck can verify that I’ve written everything down. If you don’t want to take turns skimming my notes, since there’s quite a few, I can paraphrase.”

“That won’t be necessary, Star. We only have a few questions for you.”

“Your handwriting is very pretty.” You think aloud, almost wincing when she fixes another glare on you.

“Thank you.” She doesn’t sound very thankful for what you said, turning her attention back to the book in her hands instead of looking at anyone in particular.

Glossaryck is actually smiling now. “Princess Uhlayiss. Do you want to learn about necromancy and other dark arts?”

“Yes, I do.”

Everyone gasps; save Glossaryck, Toffee, and you. Glossaryck is as inscrutable as always and you are trying very hard to give her the benefit of the doubt before you’re upset and lose your temper for the second time in far too few days. If anything, Toffee is...pleased, if you could ever read him. He looks as proud as he did when she first spoke in front of the commission.

“Do you want to use necromancy to actively raise the dead?”

“No.” She says, as though it’s the simplest thing in the world. “I don’t.”

Silence once again reigns around the table while Glossaryck considers her words.

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to. It’s cruel and selfish. But if someone else starts raising the dead and I don’t know how it works, how can I stop them?”

“You can’t.” He agrees. “Alright, Star. This is why you’re here. Make us a case for why you should be allowed to study banned magic. If you make a good case, then you can study whatever you like.”

“It’s a good thing I came prepared. You all know about things like that, right?”

“Yes. We’re all members of the Magic High Commission.” 

“And one day, I will be too.” You notice her grab her dad’s arm under the table, like she needs reassurance he’s still there before she can say anything else despite her projected confidence. If nothing else, she’s very serious about this. You were never this serious about anything when you were thirteen. “Just because I know about something doesn’t mean I have to do it myself. I never had to burn myself with a candle to believe it’s hot. Some magic is dangerous, but it’s like fire. It can be used for other things, as long as you don’t forget to be careful.”

“Like stopping people who break the law, and preventing people getting hurt by dark magic. That’s a very good argument.” Glossaryck’s serious expression breaks into a knowing smile once more. “You’re right, and you’re telling the truth. You’re not in trouble, Star, and we can start planning lessons for you with all the members of the High Commission. If you and your dad agree.”

“She won’t take lessons with Hekapoo.” Toffee says, immediately.

Is that truly his only stipulation, or is he waiting for the response to his most important condition before he moves on? He says it perfectly reasonably, in your opinion, but Rhombulus and Omni are on the cusp of arguing and you feel like now is a good time to rejoin the discussion. Star is still holding on to her dad tightly. It looks like she’s losing her nerve. You’ll step in for her.

“And why not?” You ask, already knowing the answer, despite what you hope. Hekapoo flares hotter beside you before she all but turns to stone, cold and still when he meets her eyes.

“I remember you.” Toffee says, very quietly. He’s disinclined to give more details than that. “You’ll stay away from Star.”

Rhombulus grumbles. “Or what?”

“It’s not a threat.”

“Sounds like one.”

“Rhom, stop it. I understand.” Hekapoo struggles to get the words out, eyes glued to the table. “I--”

“You’ll find all my reserves completely logical, I am sure.” He says, cutting her off smoothly. “There will be no more lessons about the Monster Wars or queens during those times--with the exception of Moon, should Star allow it. No child needs to learn about other children burning. I expect all of her lessons to be age-appropriate.”

You thought Star might add something, but she looks exhausted. This is quite a lot for her to take in at once, and talking to Glossaryck is never easy. You keep a close but careful eye on her while the discussion continues, adding what you can quietly as Star wilts a little more every hour. When a rough lesson plan is finished and agreed upon, she looks ready to fall asleep in her own terribly uncomfortable chair. 

Maybe she agrees to lessons with you out of desperation to finally go home. You want to tell her it isn’t necessary, she doesn’t have to agree just to have things done over and done with. Of course, most of your lessons with her will be official public outings. You could find excuses to spare her those, if she asked. Perhaps if she doesn’t.

Toffee argues that she shouldn’t have to attend Mewnipendence Day, but that is (unfortunately) the one holiday you can’t spare her from with excuses. She’s expected to preside over the ceremony--but that’s the only point you make. Apparently that’s enough for him. You wonder briefly if he regrets the argument before, and crush the thought. He simply doesn’t want to quarrel in front of Star.

The meeting concluded, you watch the tired princess do her best to stand tall as she leaves, with no need to stay in this dimension for the night. It’s not your place to say it, but you hope she has fun at her friend’s ka-ra-te event. She deserves it.

 

\-----------

 

Be Star, tired and extremely ready to sleep. You don’t even want to take your dress off before you fall face-first into bed and stay there for the rest of the night.

Your plans are only interrupted by Papa making you take off the nice dress, because sleeping in clothes makes them weird (according to him) and it’s a nice dress. Back in your sleeping clothes, your hair freed from all the pins and ribbons holding it up, you curl up in bed ready to sleep until--

“Star!” Marco knocks on your door. “Star, are you back?”

You groan loudly into your pillow.

“Yes! Can I come in?”

“Yes,” you say, also into your pillow.

“I want to show you something. I broke my arm this morning, but--”

“You what?!”

That wakes you up! He did WHAT to his arm?! You’re all but jumping out of bed, and you hear Papa laugh at how wild your hair looks from being smushed into your pillow and then flung everywhere. Being annoyed about that is for later, when your best friend’s limbs aren’t broken anymore. 

But his arm isn’t in a cast, like it would be if it was broken. It’s not even an arm anymore. Marco has a long, fat black-and-purple tentacle growing out of his shoulder where his perfectly normal right arm used to be.

“Surprise!” He doesn’t even look upset about it! Why isn’t he upset? He should be freaking out! How did this even happen?! You were gone for ONE DAY! “It’s a long story.”

And then you see Tom in the doorway behind him.

“Marco.” Your voice gets very, very quiet. “Oh, _no._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all the beautiful supporters, without whom I would probably have given up on chapter three. You're all the elegant lawyer-lizard people of my heart. Your kudos/comments keep me alive


	10. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco's monster arm disaster commences, and Tom is in loooooove.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As someone who's never been a teenage boy, let me just say this was really hard to write. Hope you enjoy!

Be Star, freaking out.

“Oh, no.” You say, just as Tom looks up from his mirror to you. Whatever he was going to say dies on his lips.

So, let’s recap, Star. You go to a big, important meeting about your future for a full day. The meeting takes a lot less time than it was supposed to, so you’re not going to miss Marco’s karate tournament! You try to go to bed, but in the ten hours you were gone all hell has broken loose. Marco has a tentacle arm, you’re not wearing anything but boxers, and Prince Tom of the Underworld is staring at you.

Staring at you. Without a glamour on.

“Star?”

No, no, no, no, no. This is bad. This is so bad. This is so bad, bad doesn’t even cover how bad this is, and you can’t even think of another word for it while Tom tries to process your actual face.

“Oh, cool. So you’re half?” Tom says, looking back down at his phone. “That explains a lot, actually. Nothing bad. Marco, can we go get some of those pizza rolls we talked about? I’ve got some gold, I’ll pay.”

All you can think to do in the face of this very, very bad thing is look back at Papa. He’s thinking hard about all this. When he realizes you’re looking at him he shrugs, but gives you a reassuring smile to go with that. Right. No one is dead. The contract isn’t broken. You didn’t tell Tom who (or what, more accurately) you are, so everything is pretty much okay right this second. The next thing you think to do is grab the slightly dirty t-shirt next to your bed and tug it on, because being shirtless is fine as long as it’s not in front of Tom, specifically. 

Marco is absolutely frozen in place, not answering Tom’s question. His sheer panic makes you feel just better enough to say something and rescue him from his silent horror at what just happened.

“My treat.” You correct Tom, trying for a smile you desperately hope won’t scare him when he looks up from his mirror again. “Since it’s our house. And we should… talk. Tom, what are you doing here? And what happened to Marco’s arm?”

 

\----------

 

You’re Tom now, climbing through Star’s window yesterday morning with what’s definitely too much excitement for a dignified Prince of the Underworld. 

It’s not as smooth of an entrance as you hope for, but with a pocket dimension set up past the wall you’re really lucky she thought to make the window a viable entrance. If she didn’t, hah, her room would be...well, a black hole, since you’re great at offense magic and not so good at mini-dimensional chicanery, so you’re counting your blessings right now. You’re starting to see what your mom meant when she said you should really practice your basic magic detection spells. Ugh. Booooring. If it doesn’t impress the ladies, what’s even the point?

Finding this place in a non-magical dimension doesn’t take a lot of practice. Star practically radiates magic, like some kind of cosmic, magical sun goddess blinding you with her beauty and power. So much power. If you weren’t already a thousand percent sure you’re in love with her, you might think your demonic side was trying to convince you being her thrall would be a pretty excellent use of your time and not-insignificant abilities. What can you say? She’s an actual goddess, and you’re here to bask in the glow. And take her out to dinner, since she’s forgotten to call you. Women love random romantic gestures. That’s what your mom says. 

But you may be getting ahead of yourself, just ever so slightly. Star isn’t even home--which you’d know at this point if you practiced all that extra-sensory shit--but there’s a guy. In her bedroom. Staring at you like _you’re_ out of place.

“...Well.” The human tilts its plain little head. “You’re new. Is Ludo hiring kids now?”

“What?”

“Well, you’re a monster, and you’re breaking into Star’s room...to steal her wand, right?”

“No?” This isn’t what you expected it would do at all. Most mortals run screaming in terror like good little future minions. You just now scattered a gang of badly-dressed teens on your way down the street. For whatever reason, this one thinks it (he) can talk to you? How droll. “And why do you think you can talk to me, human?”

“Because you’re in my house?”

“No.” You frown. “This is Star’s house.”

“She lives here too. Did Ludo really not tell you that?”

“What in hell’s name is a Ludo?”

“...Right. Just one question, then. Do you think I was born yesterday?”

You don’t have time for this. Honestly? You don’t. That this human thinks he can talk to you at all is testing your patience, making the hairs on the back of your neck raise and your blood burn the insides of your veins. 

“Seriously, human dude. You’re pissing me off. Where’s Star?” It eases your fury a little to even say her name. You’ve been thinking about her pretty much nonstop since the Silver Bell Ball. Being brought this close to your goal (standing in her brilliant presence, reminding her that you exist and are single, waiting for her to make a move and so, so interested) and having a little human boy sass you while standing in your way isn’t great for your already short temper. “I’m here to pick her up for a date.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Excuse me?”

The human actually...squares up to you. The fuck? He raises both arms defensively, shifts to a surprisingly adept combat pose. And here you thought peasants didn’t learn how to fight.

“There’s no way she asked you on a date.”

“Girls don’t ask people on dates.”

“That’s exactly why she wouldn’t date you, man. Star’s not here, but neither is her wand. I’m warning you, new guy. I’ve beat up all your monster buddies. Just turn around, go back out the window, and--”

You throw him into the wall with a wave of your hand. Oh sweet, sweet telekinesis. Bet he didn’t see that one coming. If this human is Star’s pet, then she’s probably never thrown him around. Dignified girls like her don’t break their toys, but it seems she hasn’t trained him very well if he’s mouthing off to you like this. No matter. You’ll teach him his manners.

“Where’s Star?” You repeat. Oh, you hate repeating yourself. Almost as much as you hate being called a monster.

“Ow. Okay.” The human peels himself back off the floor, rumpled but otherwise fine. “I’ll be honest, I didn’t expect that. That’s a great move. I’m going to punch you in the face now.”

You wave a hand and he raises a good two feet off the ground with a surprised shout. This kid just isn’t getting it. “We’re not fighting. I’m reminding you of your place, human pet. Just tell me where Star is, and I won’t smash your guts into red paint.”

“...Sure. She’s at the Bureaucracy of Magic for a meeting, if you want to break in there, I guess.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s a princess? I don’t know! But if you want to do battle, you’ll have to wait until she gets back.”

“You’re really testing my patience, human.”

“You broke into my house, and I’m testing your patience? Come on. And I’m not her pet, but it’s nice to see humans aren’t the only racist ones. People at school say the exact opposite thing. It’s kind of refreshing, I’ll tell her about it when she gets back. When you’re gone.”

“Who even are you?!”

“I’m Marco Diaz, Star’s best friend. And I’m not going to let you be a creep in her room while she’s not here, monster guy.”

Now he’s done it. Don’t kill him, you remind yourself, before throwing him into the floor hard enough he’s probably got some broken bones. 

The human glares stubbornly at you from the floor. Maybe no broken bones, then. Oh well. Better to err on the side of caution. You rather doubt he’s Star’s best friend (that’s Princess Ponyhead, definitely), but he’s probably something to her and killing whatever he is to her isn’t a good first date look. 

“Has anybody told you you’re really, really rude?” The human grumbles.

“I’m the prince of the Underworld, kid.”

“Don’t come at me with that ‘kid’ business. You’re probably the same age as me.”

“Doubtful.”

“I’m fourteen. If you’re older than fourteen and making moves on my best friend, we’re not going to get along.”

“....I could kill you with my mind.” You tell him, in case he really doesn’t understand the gravity of the situation.

“That’s a risk I’ll have to take. The good news is, if you kill me with magic then Star is going to come home and eat your face.”

“I’ll find her another human. One with better manners.”

“Dude. Not cool. There’s only one Marco Diaz, and Star will definitely notice if you try the old ‘my kid’s goldfish died, so I’ll get another one’ parent trick on her. But I’m kind of used to people showing up in the house and threatening to kill me, and I want Star to have friends in Mewni, so I won’t tell her you tried to kill me if you can be cool until she gets back. Or if you leave right now, I’ll tell her you came over. And I won’t tell Mr. Toffee you insulted Star and threatened to kill his adopted nephew. We can be reasonable about this, right?”

“....You would tell her bodyguard on me?”

“Yeah, dude. Try me.”

“You can’t tell on me if you’re dead.”

“You can’t date Star if you kill her best friend.” He points out, ignoring your threat. “She would definitely find out, and she’d be pissed. I hate to tell you this, Prince Underworld, but bros before hoes is a real thing.”

“What does that...even mean?” 

“It means best friends before weird demon guys who try to kill best friends, my dude. You can’t date her if you kill me.”

“...Okay.” Your temper is starting to ease up enough that the world isn’t red-tinted anymore the longer he talks. This human, Marco Diaz, doesn’t seem very upset about being thrown around the room and you’re equal parts pleased and jealous that he’s so confident Star will be mad if you kill him. “So, are you a prince?”

“Prince of awkward situations, maybe. But my parents aren’t royalty. My mom teaches poetry, and dad just bought an art gallery. It’s pretty cool.”

“So...why is Star staying here, and not with a human royal family?”

“We don’t really know. Mr. Toffee decided. He probably wants her to grow up like a normal person, so when she’s a queen she knows how normal people live. Besides, there’s no royalty in America. That’s kind of the point.”

“What’s the point?”

“Our government is a democratic republic. We elect representatives and vote on laws, so everyone has a say in what happens. It’s pretty neat.” Marco shrugs. “So I guess they could have gone to the president or the embassy, but they didn’t. Star gets to go to high school like a normal kid. Mr. Toffee is pretty chill.”

“...But her parents let her bodyguard make the call?”

“I guess.” Nervousness flashes across his face while he tries to come up with his next words, obviously not telling the truth, but you expected that. Something’s up here and you’re too curious about what Star meant when she said to figure out who she is to just leave now and kill Marco before you do. “He’s more like her nanny. Have you seen The Pacifier?”

“No? What is that.”

“It’s a movie about a Navy SEAL who goes undercover as a babysitter for a family after an assassin kills their dad. He spends a lot of the movie pretending he doesn’t like teaching teenagers to drive and selling Girl Scout cookies, but he totally likes it.”

“That’s an explanation full of questions, dude.”

“Basically he’s a buff soldier guy whose mission in life is to let Star have nice tea parties and join all the after-school clubs she wants.”

You frown. “But what’s a Girl Scout, and why are they cookies? And why does Earth’s Navy have seals?”

“....You know what? We’re gonna watch the movie. Come on.” He stands up, brushes imaginary dirt off his jeans and starts out of the room. “I’ll make nachos. Unless you have something better to do?”

“No. Not really.”

“Come on, then. Do you like olives?”

“I don’t know.”

“We’ll work that out in the kitchen. I bet Netflix has the movie, we can watch it downstairs. My mom loves weird comedies. Don’t bring Mr. Toffee up, though, ‘cause I want to see how long it takes for her to realize he’s basically the Navy guy, okay?”

Looking back from the present, you probably should have stuck with watching movies and eating weirdly delicious triangle food. You should have kept going through the Netflix recommended and not suggested sparring to see how Earth guys fight. Or to make sure you can, in fact, kick Marco’s ass in case he’s secretly Star’s boyfriend. 

You shouldn’t have thrown him over the fence and into the neighbor’s pool, breaking his arm and royally screwing yourself and your chances of getting Star to yourself when she gets back. Even if Marco was being a total baby about his broken arm and you knew it. What you definitely shouldn’t have done was botching the spell for said arm, playing it off as intentional, and convincing Marco it was cool and definitely going to win his fighting tournament better than a normal, unbroken arm. Even if that’s right.

None of that was a good idea, but Star steps through the portal in her room (an hour after you two left her _expressly off-limits_ magical study, thank corn she didn’t see that), Marco runs off to tell her about his day, and you’re left alone in his room with a strict warning to stay where Marco left you.

Since when do you ever do what you’re told? Naturally, you follow him the second you hear Star’s voice. She sounds exhausted and, as you get closer, absolutely pissed. You round the doorway looking pointedly at your phone. Be aloof, you tell yourself. Just be cool.

“Marco,” she says, noticing you a second after you look up. So much for being cool. “Oh, no.”

She’s half-monster, you realize. Just like you. It’s this shining moment of clarity you didn’t expect, seeing her real face for the first time. No wonder you can’t get her out of your head. She’s just like you! Sure, she has scales instead of horns and an extra eye, but her real face makes so much more sense than the glamour. You could see the faintest hints of strain on it during the Ball when her smile was just a little too wide and her nose was too sharp for her Mewman-disguised face. 

The real Star has hair the color of her glamour eyes, and her real eyes are such a bright yellow they’re mesmerizing. All you do for the first few seconds is stare before you’re worried she’ll get the wrong impression. It takes you a moment to process that she’s not wearing a shirt, and the fine grey scales over her torso are her skin. Duh, Tom. You avert your eyes politely while she’s still shock-frozen. 

“Oh, cool. So you’re half?” You say, looking casually back to your mirror. Keep it casual, Tom. “That explains a lot, actually. Nothing bad.”

Real smooth, Casanova. Marco looks like he’s about to drop dead, tentacle arm waving listlessly at his side while he stares to Star in open-mouthed horror. Not that you blame him. He totally blew her secret, but at least he should now you’re going to be cool about it.

“Marco, can we go get some of those pizza rolls we talked about? I’ve got some gold, I’ll pay.”

Neither of them answer you for a good thirty seconds, but Star gets her voice back first. She still sounds the same as the first time you talked to her. You think her voice goes better with her real face and the way she draws herself up with all the poise of a princess even though she’s just wearing bright pink boxers.

“My treat.” She corrects you, and your heart flutters like a bird in your ribcage when she smiles at you with all her sharp teeth. Oh corn, she’s even cuter than you thought. You feel like you might pass out as she continues. “Since it’s our house. And we should… talk. Tom, what are you doing here? And what happened to Marco’s arm?”

You really should have stuck to movies and triangle food, Tom.

 

\----------

 

Be Star in the present, on the verge of a wicked nervous breakdown.

Walking to the closest store for more pizza rolls turns into Tom really, really wanting to see what’s up with the gas station-McDonalds combo about a block away from the house. Papa sends you off $20 and a curfew of ten, along with his usual ‘behave’ and a stern look at Tom before he settles down for a bit of reading. At least Tom doesn’t look as nervous as you feel about your dad being annoyed with him. 

That’s probably because he thinks your dad is really some kind of royal guard, if he thinks anything about him. You should warn him about that, huh. Papa isn’t a royal guard, and if Tom is even a little bit rude he’ll have to watch his back for the next hundred years. You know your dad pretty well. One stern look means a lot more from him than most people. Tom is, as the humans say, skating on thin ice.

“So I wasn’t doing anything, and I wanted to see if you could hang out,” Tom tells you, between bites of his fries. “Oh, these are good--but yeah, I called Ponyhead, and she told me how to get here. Does Pony know?”

“Absolutely not.” 

“Right.” Tom shoves another pizza roll into his mouth, the picture of unbothered. “Contract stuff. I kind of thought so, so I’m glad I didn’t ask her any questions. She said you have a monster bodyguard who’s named after candy and probably delicious, her words not mine, but I guess Mr. Toffee is your dad?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, cool. I was right on my first guess, huh? Anyway, I came to see if you could chill, but Marco said you were gone. I didn’t have anything to do, and I thought he might drop some clues about what we were talking about--you know, at the Ball.” He grins to himself, probably remembering that night and how charming you (hopefully) were in a setting where you had your hair nice and actual clothes on. And your fake-pretty glamour face. “But he didn’t give anything away. We just watched movies and ate Earth food.”

“...And then Marco broke his arm.”

“Well, it’s a funny story. Because, ha,” He shrinks in his seat. “Well, I...kind of made a joke, about practicing his fighting with me. And I...it’s so crazy, you know, I accidentally may have _thrownhimoverafence_ but hey, I fixed it! Mostly.”

“Hey, Tom? 

“Yeah?”

“His arm is an actual tentacle right now. As we speak. A tentacle.”

“Yeah, okay, I might have...done the spell wrong. But I was practicing it! I can probably fix it. If you think about it, it’s really the thought that counts.”

“...No, it’s not, and like I’m going to let you cast another spell on my best friend.”

“It’s not that bad.” He grumbles, glaring at Marco like it’s his fault, and you get this flash of what it would feel like to rip your claws through his face for a second before your vision goes back to full color instead of straight red. 

Right. Easy, Star. You want this boy to like you, don’t you? Tearing off his face is a bad first impression for a sort-of date.

“A tentacle. You turned his arm...into a tentacle. Marco.” You turn to your best friend. “Did you talk to Erstwhile?”

Marco looks down at his food guiltily. “After Tom messed up. He told me I’m going to die in the next century anyways, but this arm is actually--”

“Okay. So he’s definitely going in a drawer for a week, and I’m going to fix your arm right now.”

“...Actually, Star,” Marco mumbles. “I kind of like it.”

“You what?”

“I kind of like it. It’s pretty cool.”

“It’s a tentacle where your arm should be, and Tom is lucky I don’t eat him raw with my bare hands and use his splintered bones to pick my teeth when I’m done.”

So much for a good impression. Or maybe not, since Tom is giving you a dreamy look over his steaming tray of sort-of food.

“That’s hot.” Tom says, with his mouth full of half-chewed chicken nugget chunks, still managing to look cute. “I’m not even kidding.”

“Hey did you know that if you bite into an eyeball, it pops like a grape when you bite down? That is, if you don’t destroy them plucking them out of a skull. Which I’ve never tried. First time for everything, though.”

What was that about controlling your temper? You don’t know, but at least Tom doesn’t look upset. He’s actually grinning at you now, even though you can’t seem to stop threatening him. Is this how people flirt?

“You’re the girl of my dreams, Star. Have you ever thought about being the Queen of Hell?”

“You’re insane.” And flirting with you. Whoa. But cute boys who mess up their spells have still messed up their spells. If that’s not already a saying, it should be. “And you’re not casting any more magic on Marco, because this spell is making him as insane as you are.”

“I think I’m just gonna keep the arm until after the tournament, so it’s really okay.”

You shoot Marco a look of disbelief. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, why not? I could beat Jeremy with this, no problem.”

“...That seems kind of unfair, doesn’t it?”

“We’ll talk about this later.”

Something dark flashes across his face, something bitter and furious you’ve never seen in him. Sitting in front of the whole Magic High Commission couldn’t scare you, but this does. Marco is never even mad. Something’s wrong, but he’s right. McDonald's isn’t the right place to talk about all this.

“Alright.” Ouch, though. “Later, then. Let’s just eat dinner.”

“Sure,” He grumbles. “Whatever.”

“I’m just happy to see you.” Tom offers, breaking the tension. 

“Not that it isn’t nice to see you, now that I know I’m not going to drop dead from the contract, but why are you here?”

“Oh, no big reason. I just wanted to see if you were free, since I don’t have your mirror number, and take you out on a date.”

That’s a pretty big reason, you’re pretty sure. Granted, you aren’t exactly an expert. Marco being in a bad mood aside, there are definitely worse things than pretty demon boys who want to take you out on a date. Wanted to take you on a date? Maybe he doesn’t want to anymore, since he knows what you are. That’s a downside you didn’t consider and is now rushing through your brain like a train a full speed.

“Speechless?” He grins, leaning casually on his arm while he looks you over. “You shouldn’t be. I have high standards, Star, and you’re meeting them all. So what do you say? Do you wanna go with me to Marco’s tournament tomorrow?”

“Dude.” Marco picks at his sandwich moodily. “Our whole family’s going.”

“It could still be fun. We could even pick up a plus one or plus two on the way there...like, say, Jackie Lynn Thomas?”

He goes from moping around with his squished chicken patty to trying really hard not to blush. Being moody is hard when someone brings up your crush of literally ten years. “Bro, really?”

“Yeah, bro. I bet she’d come. Let me pull a few strings, work a little magic.”

“Don’t use magic on her, please. This arm is sick and she thinks it’s cool, but she probably likes her normal arms.”

“That’s not--”

“I’ll just invite her.” You offer, hoping it will make him feel better. “We’re sort of friends, but she’s nice. And she’s friends with Ferguson, he has her number from when he watched her dog a while ago. We can totally get her there to watch you beat that Jeremy kid. Tentacle or not.”

“...You guys are the best.” Marco says, and (despite losing his cool a little earlier) looks like he actually means it.

 

\----------

 

So maybe it’s stupid that you keep pushing the arm issue after you’re all back at the house and away from other nighttime diners in the McDonalds. After all, you don’t know what it’s like to be human and squishy. Marco fights really well, but he’s no match for you as just a regular human guy. Sparring with him and his monster arm while Tom referees is fun. It’s a challenge. You still beat him, which sends him into another mood, but you never thought he would yell at you for trying to help him when you bring up going through the spellbook to look for something to fix his arm.

“Yeah, sure.” He snaps. “Because I haven’t had enough magic misfires, and I love being a boring human who always gets his butt kicked.”

Marco runs off to his room before you can argue with him, with Tom trailing behind.

“I’ll talk to him, I promise.” Tom shoots you a slick grin that makes your heart skip a beat even though you’re upset. He blows you a kiss like some ridiculous cool kid in a 90’s movie and you mime catching it, pressing it to your cheek. That gets you a laugh. “Goodnight, beautiful.”

Tom calling you beautiful to your true face is amazing and distracts you for a minute, but you have a lot of work to do tonight. You’re beautiful (no matter what the human kids at school like to say behind your back), but you’re also quite good at practical magic. There has to be something in the book to reverse Tom’s spell mistake, even if Tom’s only calling it a mistake so you aren’t mad at him. You get upstairs, kiss Papa goodnight, and vaguely agree that you’ll go to bed soon before disappearing into your magical study.

You crack open the spellbook and get an eyeful of shirtless Glossaryck.

“Wow. That is...so gross.”

“I’m an old man, Star. Age does things to you. What do you want?”

“A spell to make Marco’s arm normal again. Tom came over while I was gone, Marco broke his arm, and Tom tried to fix it with magic but gave him a magic tentacle.”

“Ah. I know just the spell.”

“Of course you do.” Erstwhile grumbles, muffled but clearly behind you.

“Master Erstwhile!” You call, despite knowing exactly where he is. 

You shoved him in your bottom desk drawer for being so rude about sad human lifespans you try really hard not to think about. Now that it’s been an hour or two you aren’t as angry as you were, but you open the drawer and stifle a giggle. Erstwhile is upside-down, looking as annoyed as he is powerless to right his jar or even float right-side-up again. It’s too narrow for him to turn himself any direction but side to side to look around inside the drawer.

“Princess Uhlayiss. Have you decided to remove me from this wooden purgatory?”

“Will you stop being rude, and help us fix Marco’s arm?”

It’s hard to tell with Chameleons, but you think Erstwhile rolls his eyes at you before he answers your question. Rude. “I suppose, if my princess demands it.”

“I do. Demand it, I mean.”

“I’m right here.” Glossaryck mumbles. 

“You can both help. I need to make sure the spell works perfectly before I can use it on Marco. You’re both going to help me find a spell, I don’t care if they’re the same. If there are two, I’ll practice both and use the one that works best.”

“Find the page,” Glossaryck suggests. “Queen Crescenta made a spell like that when she first got the book. She used it to fix misfires, when she practiced her spells on herself.”

“I will, then. Crescenta,” You order the book and watch heavy, colorful pages flutter to her chapter. The spell Glossaryck suggests is on the third page, in a list of similar incantations and wrist diagrams. “Did she...use this a lot?”

“At least once a week when she was a teenager.”

“Oh. So it must work very well.”

“Ehh, you know…”

_Returnius Normalus Armarino_ is the specific incantation. You study the diagram carefully. Wrist straight, wand parallel to the ground, a ninety degree angle between the back of the wand and your arm. That isn’t complicated. You adjust your grip, place a potted plant on your desk, and say the incantation.

The plant catches on fire.

“Shit!”

“That...did happen a lot, at first.” Glossaryck floats around the obliterated plant. “Yep, it did. Just like Crescenta to make a spell like this. Everything she did had mixed results.”

“Her grasp of the language is childishly poor.” Your other teacher grumbles.

“Well, she was a year older than Star when she made this.”

“It’s a terrible spell. A mockery of proper Latin. How could anyone expect consistent results with a spell like this? Star, please show me the page.”

You tilt the massive book up for him, grateful for your strength.

“Mm, yes...as I suspected. There is no mental component. These spells sacrifice imagination for specificity, don’t they? She’s made a dreadful mess of this. _Reditus_ should suffice, Star, so long as you think your intention clearly. Picture carefully what you would like to happen. Incantations should be unspecific, a skeleton key for many outcomes. _Armarino_.” He tilts from side to side disapprovingly. “Trite nonsense.”

“She isn’t advanced enough to shape an incantation that way, Erstwhile.” 

“She should try.”

You close your eyes, aiming your wand at the burnt plant and trying to imagine it whole again before saying the incantation. This time, the entire pot explodes. No! That’s not what you pictured! No fire!

“ _Shit!_ ” You say again, and both your teachers wince. “Well, neither of them work!”

“You’re picturing it wrong.” Erstwhile tells you.

“She isn’t holding her wand right.” Glossaryck disagrees, floating to your side. “It’s alright to be specific, Star. You can retranslate Crescenta’s spell, you know. Her Latin was terrible when she was your age.”

“She should practice channeling her energy. _Reditus_ will work, so long as she is properly focused.”

“It’s better to be specific, and fix Marco’s arm.” You tell them both with a hint of embarrassment. Agreeing with Glossaryck isn’t normally your style, but he’s right. You don’t want to make things worse, and you could translate Crescenta’s terrible spell a little better. “What about… _Reditus Normalus Brachium Eius_?”

Glossaryck nods. “Try it. Erstwhile is right, you’ll still have to concentrate.”

Your newly minted spell turns your next plant into a massive, misshapen arm. It waves at you with three stubby fingers, swaying on four elbow joints, and you bite back a squeak. That’s not at all what you want.

“We’re going to be here awhile.” You mutter, resigning yourself to the high likelihood of not sleeping all night. “I just...need to practice, that’s all.”

 

\----------

 

Be Marco, and be really annoyed at Star.

She comes into your room (without knocking) the morning of the _Tong Soo Do_ tournament with her wand in hand and one of her big smiles. The scales under her eyes don’t give her away, but her slightly bloodshot eyes do. You doubt she slept last night.

“Marco, I did it! I can fix your arm!” She bounces a little in place. Even in a bad mood, it’s hard not to laugh a little. Sheesh, she must have been up all night. “It took me all night, but I can do it now!”

“Like I said, Star, I’m really getting the hang of this monster arm. I think it could really help me take Jeremy out for good.”

“Hell yeah it could.” Tom looks up from the book in his lap. “And with almost no side effects.”

“Yeah! Check this out.”

You slam your monstrous arm down on the small practice stand you keep in your room. It’s sturdy but simple, just a few boards stacked on a pair of cheap cinderblocks. It’s something you’ve had for years as you’ve practiced your karate. The boards splinter easily, and at least one of the blocks cracks as it’s crushed. And that’s not even hard for you!

And yet, Star doesn’t look impressed. “You’re really going to fight with that? That seems...really unfair, Marco.”

“Maybe it is, but so is Jeremy hanging out in the dojo just to make fun of everyone who can’t afford private lessons. He shouldn’t even be there. If I really kick his ass, he won’t come back.”

“Because he’ll be dead!” Tom adds excitedly. Your best friend looks horrified.

“...I’m not gonna kill him. But it will be really embarrassing when I throw him out the window. Then he’ll have a broken arm, and I’ll never have to see him again because he’ll be too scared to come back!”

“That’s...great, Marco.” She doesn’t sound like she thinks it’s great at all. “ _Really_ fair.”

“Oh, really? I see how it is.” You feel the rage welling up in your stomach like acid, so intense it’s almost physical. “You never have a problem using your magic when it benefits you, but as soon as I get a little magical help? You want to take it away!”

You’re not sure when you started advancing on her, but now you’re towering a good head over her with a sneer plastered on. Star looks up at you with wide, hurt eyes, slumped shoulders making her look smaller than usual while her tail lashes nervously behind her.

“You’ve even got a tail! That’s the same as my tentacle arm, and you never have any issues using it to kick my ass! Why is that different?!”

“I was born with it, Marco. You heard what my dad said when we asked him if I could do karate too. I can’t, because karate is all about honor and it’s unfair. I’m not even allowed to play sports at school, because I’m too strong and I’ll hurt the other kids.”

“That’s stupid. Just because you won’t, I can’t? Come on. Jeremy’s cheating too!”

“Whoa, big guy, hey.” Tom sidles around to get between you and Star, forcing her to take a step back to give him some space. You’re not moving. “Back down a little, huh? No need to get upset. We’re all friends here.”

“Are we?” Star’s still looking up at you, but now she’s less hurt and more angry with you. “You know how bad I wanted to take lessons with you, and you’re just throwing it in my face? I think this arm is a bad influence on you.”

Tom turns around to face her, easing you just a little further from her. “Hey, Starship, come on. Don’t you want to see him win? Jackie’s even going to be there! It’ll be fine, babe, you’ll see.”

“The Marco I know doesn’t have to cheat to win.”

Something in you gives a half-hearted twitch. Wow, you really hurt her feelings, didn’t you? She looks really upset, and really disappointed. That twitchy little part of you thinks that she might be right. It’s not fair, and you shouldn’t be looming over her like one of Ludo’s monsters. That’s your best friend!

_‘No,’_ Another, much bigger part of you slaps away the apology you’re thinking about. _‘She’s wrong. You should do anything you can to win. That’s why she’s upset. You could beat her now, just try it! She can’t fight you anymore. She’s just jealous.’_

“You should go,” is what you say. 

Tom kind of looks back at you over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow, but you don’t want to deal with that right now. If Star wants to be jealous, and he wants to agree just so he can make out with her, then they should go. You don’t need this from them. The tentacle arm thrashes menacingly without any thought from you.

“Marco, buddy, I don’t think--”

You shove Tom out the door after an already-retreating Star. If he wants to play the room from both angles, you don’t need him here at all. 

“I get it, but--”

The door slams hard before he can finish. You hear him start to catch fire in the hallway, and then Star talking him down as she pulls him down the hall. Fine. You don’t want them here.

“What does she know?” You sit down hard on the edge of your bed, feeling deflated all of a sudden. This is the first time you’ve ever argued with Star.

“Don’t listen to her.” A low, raspy voice cuts through the room.

“What--”

You look frantically around the room.

“Here.”

“Wh--”

“Here.” Your arm says. It’s sprouted a crude, gaping maw of a mouth that (uncharitably) reminds you of Star yawning. Maybe madness is one of the effects of this spell. As far as you know, arms don’t talk. Not even the magic ones. And that wasn’t a nice thing to think about Star, but-- “Don’t listen to her, she’s just jealous.”

“--YOU CAN TALK?!”

“Of course I can.” It sways beside you on the bed, acted on by nothing and no one as it speaks. “You don’t need her anymore, not when I can give you everything you’ve ever dreamed of.”

No, it can’t! Can it, though? You don’t know. 

“...Really?”

“Everything you’ve ever dreamed. First, we’re gonna destroy that little punk, Jeremy.”

“...Yeah.”

“Then we’re going to get Jackie Lynn Thomas to like you.”

“Yeah!”

And you don’t remember what else it said. The next thing you know, you’re at the tournament, waiting in the shadows. How did you get here? Somewhere in the small stands are your parents, Star, and Tom. All you care about it Jackie’s grin when you make eye contact with her. She gives you two thumbs-up, and you can’t help but grin too. 

If you catch a glimpse of Star looking sad and deflated with your family and friends, well, who cares? You’re going to fucking annihilate Jeremy. If he didn’t before, he’s going to wish he was never born. He’s fucking DEAD.

_No, he’s not dead. We can’t kill him. This is just for show, we’re not even supposed to really hurt each other. We can’t, oh god, this is so wrong!_

You’re going to pound him into the mat, and once he begs for mercy you’re going to tear him open and feed him to your arm while he’s still alive.

_Star was right. She has to know something’s wrong. She can fix this! Just say something, say you’re sorry, walk over there and--_

“Allow me to introduce our first competitor, Jeremy Birnbaum!” Sensei gestures to the cloaked figure in the corner opposite you, getting his shoulders rubbed and drinking from a cup held by his butler. You fucking hate this kid. He shrugs off his robe and you want to retch. Disgustingly annoying. “And his opponent, MARCO DIAZ!”

Your parents will be cheering in the crowd, but today all you hear is the blood pounding through your skull. 

_It’s not too late._

“WAIT! He’s got a monster arm,” Jeremy squeaks, twitching like a scared little rat. “That’s not FAIR!”

“Life isn’t fair.” You growl, not even waiting for Sensei to call the match before you grab him by the throat and slam him to the ground.

He weighs nothing in your grip. You throw him up in the air and catching him again, slam him back and for a few times, and toss him straight into the ceiling only to catch him when he rebounds too-fast towards the ground.

_Don’t do this._

“Point Diaz.” Sensei says. The crowd is silent.

“Where are your private lessons now, Jeremy?” You taunt him as you approach, your monstrous arm swaying like a snake rearing to strike. “Maybe mommy and daddy can buy you braces, when I’m done rearranging your teeth.”

Jeremy groans weakly against the mat. Lightning fast, you snatch him off the woven bamboo without even thinking about it. Your arm squeezes him far too tight, bringing him ever closer to the jagged, gaping maw where your normal wrist used to be. 

_Don’t do this._

“Now,” Your arm demands. “Finish him!”

_Don’t do this._

“I... can’t.”

_Don’t._

Why isn’t anyone in the crowd doing anything? Why did Sensei even let you fight like this?! It’s so difficult to control even your normal limbs. This isn’t a monster arm, it’s a demon and you’re a thrall. You can’t let it eat Jeremy. Risk a glance towards the stands, and you see Star all the way at the top. She’s in the back row, fast asleep. Tom and the rest of your friends can only stare. In the front row, Jackie sits petrified with her eyes on you.

“GET STAR!” You yell to Tom, screwing your eyes shut with effort before you can even see if he’s doing what you said. “HELP!”

With all your resolve, you manage to drop Jeremy back on the mat. He starts crawling away as your demon arm turns on you.

“If you can’t feed me,” It’s hiss becomes a roar. “THEN I’LL EAT YOU FIRST!”

It punches you square in the jaw, and your vision goes black.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm blowing a kiss to everyone who gives kudos/comments, and I hope it reaches you in good health. You're all confident demon princes with big dreams for future queens.


	11. Chapter Nine and a Half

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco is recovering with his friends, and Queen Moon has a clandestine meeting with everyone's favorite idiot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody! I know it's Saturday and all, but here's a bonus chapter with some content that didn't fit nicely in the last chapter or the chapter after this. I thought since it's already written, I might as well post it up.

Be Marco, opening your eyes to the bright, sterile white ceiling of a hospital room. 

Never in your life have you been so happy to wake up. You’re alive! Sitting up tugs at the IV in your human (human!) right arm, making your stomach turn a bit to match your spinning head. Whoa. You feel like garbage.

“Marco!” Your mother is there, hugging you. “Oh, we were so worried. How are you feeling, honey?”

“Head hurts.” Your voice is a little raspy, and you wonder how long you’ve been asleep. It’s still bright outside. Not that that means anything, actually, since it’s probably a different day. “Did I kill Jeremy?”

“Of course not. Star fixed your arm as soon as you went unconscious. She said you should be alright, magically speaking, but you have a concussion.” 

“That explains my headache, huh.”

“It could have been much worse.” Your mother squeezes you carefully. “But the doctor says your arm isn’t broken anymore. I should text your dad, he’s probably on his way up now.”

“Where’s Star?”

“She’s coming back from lunch, honey. We thought it was best someone stayed here, in case you woke up.”

“How long…?”

“Just a few hours. It’s still Saturday.” 

“Oh. Good. Is Tom still here?”

“Yes, he’s with Star. He feels really bad about what happened--”

“I’m not mad at him. If I just let Star fix my arm, I would be fine.” Which is embarrassing, but true. If you listened to her when she said you were in trouble, that the arm was dangerous, then no one would have gotten hurt and you wouldn’t have left the tournament in an ambulance. “He said he messed up. I was just excited, because...because Jackie thought it was cool. And I don’t want to be a regular, boring human.”

“...Marco, honey.” Your mom fluffs your hair, carefully avoiding your bandages. “Is that what this is about?”

“No. Yeah. I don’t know.”

“Let’s talk it over. What’s wrong with being a regular, boring human?”

“Nothing.”

“Marco.”

“It’s just...lame.” You slump a little where you’re sitting. “Which is stupid, because I should be happy I just have normal parents and normal kid stuff to deal with. Star’s not even allowed to wear her real face in public. And if I tell her I’m jealous that she’s a magic space lizard princess, she’ll be really hurt because she just wants to be a normal kid, like me. So I know it’s dumb to be jealous. I’m just still jealous.”

“I don’t think you’re jealous.”

“But--”

She holds up a hand to stop you. “Let me finish. It sounds like you’re worried about something.”

“What would I even be worried about? I don’t have any real problems. I’m not even important at school, or in karate, or anywhere.”

“I think you’re worried that Star will forget about you if you can’t compare to her new friends.”

“That’s jealousy.”

“No, but it might be why you feel jealous. Jealousy is just what we call the emotional shell around what we’re really worried about. Do you really want to be a magic lizard space princess?”

“No. I just want to be cool.”

“Star thinks you’re pretty cool.” Your mom says, drumming her fingers thoughtfully. “...You know, Toffee said she was so upset about possibly missing your cool tournament that she yelled at the whole High Commission for wasting her time with stupid, boring things like ancient magic. She even cussed at them.”

“...Really?”

“Mmhm. She threatened to walk out of a meeting with four magic gods and a Queen, just to see you fight. That doesn’t sound Star thinks you’re boring. Not to me, at least.”

 

“I can’t believe she cussed.”

“She told them the whole meeting was bullshit.”

That gets a laugh out of you. “For real?”

“For real.”

“Wow.” 

Even if it’s silly, knowing that makes you feel a little bit better. Your jealousy eases up as you think about what your mom said. Jealousy is just a shell around what’s actually wrong.

“Marco!” Star cuts off your train of thought by jumping onto the hospital bed, practically vibrating with excitement. “You’re awake! Gods, Marco, you really scared me. I'm so sorry I fell asleep, I was just so tired but--”

“It's fine, don't worry about it.” You pull your best friend in for a hug and ignore how the IV pulls at your arm.

“Hey, bro.” Tom walks through the door with your dad and Mr. Toffee behind him. “How are you feeling?”

“Kind of stupid, man, don't even worry about it. Is everyone else okay?”

“Oh yeah, Star woke up right as you went down. She fixed your arm from across the room.”

“It took two tries.” Star adds. If not for her scales, she would definitely be blushing. “The first one came out weird, but don’t worry. Everyone was busy being depressed that Jeremy didn’t die.”

“Mood. Glad I didn’t kill him, though. And...Star, I’m really sorry I yelled at you. It was--oof.”

She crushes you in a hug before you can finish your sentence.

“Don’t worry about it.” Her words are muffled against your shoulder. “I’m just glad you’re safe.”

As relieved as you are that she isn’t mad, something else catches your attention. Tom’s giving you a look you can only call weird. He looks kind of mad. Probably because you yelled at Star, and then threw them both out of your room. That was pretty rude. You let go of your death grip on Star with one arm to wave him over.

“Hey, you come here too. I’m really sorry I lost my temper.”

“It wasn’t your fault…”

“Still. Come here, man. Don’t leave me hanging.”

He looks a lot less upset after that...but you see, just out of the corner of your eye as you all leave the hospital to go home, a glimmer of jealousy when Star holds your hand out of habit on the way to the car. You want to explain that it’s just habit, because she’d never even seen a street before you met her and it made you nervous to let her go by herself when she tended to get distracted by everything. Neither of you even thinks about it. Star’s practically your sister. It’s gone in an instant, before you can even explain. Oh, well. He’ll get over it. This isn’t going to be a thing. You won't let it.

 

\----------

 

Be Ludo. 

You’re wringing your hands and occasionally shouting at your men while you wait for Queen Moon’s response--or appearance, which is technically a response and also a lot for you to hope for from any queen, much less THE queen.

You’re de facto general of the Monster Army, but that doesn’t like...mean anything, so long as things stay how they are. Sure it’s an army, and there’s a sweet castle, but you’re not very dangerous at the moment. Queen Moon only negotiates with nations. The Avarius family is the head of the Monster Nation formed after the war, but you’re disowned. What’s an army without a nation? And why are you just a general when, given your castle and lands and the fair number of sympathizers and minions, you could be a king?

That’s why you need that wand. Not that you’re, uh, explaining that, exactly? And not that the Star girl listens to you. Septarians are always stuck-up. But her dad stole the wand, and now she’s not even doing anything important with it! 

But the famous General Toffee having a daughter raises a lot of alarms in your big, beautiful brain. You’ve done a lot of thinking, and you don’t think what you thought was going on is actually going on at all. Because if there’s one thing you really remember about General Toffee and all the complaining your fellow squires did, it’s how much he favored his lover you wrote off while you were making theories before.

His people always mate for life, no exceptions, and they’re so serious about their marriages that it’s a crime to separate couples. Married criminals can’t even be locked up without their spouse. It’s a really big deal. But you’ve been to Earth just about a thousand times now, and guess what? Not a single glimpse of the very big and very green guy he married. You still can’t think of the name. If he got away, why wouldn’t he have his husband with him? And how did two guys have a daughter?

_Unless..._

So you’re doing some reading. More accurately, Buff Frog is reading you all the books you found and then repeating all the important stuff in case you miss it. There’s not a lot of information just floating around about Septarsis or her inhabitants. Most of the books about monsters in Mewni as trashy propaganda. One ~inspired~ artist actually wrote a trashy romance novel about Crocirian tribes (with a love interest that reminds you of the General’s husband) but you’ll read that...later.

For now, Buff Frog reads to you a composed treatise on baby Septarians. They’re using Imbricata kids for illustrations, even though Buff Frog says they’re not true Septarians. Whatever that means. They have scales, stand on two legs, regenerate--close enough for you. The treatise is unhelpful. You have Buff Frog find another. And another. And another.

As you’ve always known, research will get you nowhere. None of these treaties say anything about broodmothers! Or hatching! How are you supposed to find out how the General did this if you don't even know how Septarians are made?!?! 

They must hatch, right? None of these books say. Not even your father’s collection of books and scrolls from the war and trying to hold back King Seth’s onslaught can give you anything you didn't know. They hatch, maybe. Nothing specific. 

Well, that's your whole day. There's nothing. Why do people even read? Useless.

“General Avarius?”

Queen Moon herself follows Boofly into your paper-filled study, holding her cloak politely over one arm. She’s wearing a dress instead of armor. That doesn’t really surprise you. It’s a little insulting, maybe, but you know she doesn’t take you seriously. You’re excited she came at all. Maybe she takes you more seriously than you thought. Oh, Ludo, always so modest!

“Queen Moon, Your Majesty!” You bow quickly. “Welcome to Castle Avarius! Come in, come in. Make yourself at home! Don't mind the mess, I got a bit frustrated with a book-- _LOBSTERCLAW, THE TEA!_ ”

“I’m coming boss!”

Wouldn't you know it, but he trips halfway to the table. Tea goes everywhere. You sigh, disappointed but not at all surprised.

“Oh no, boss, I--”

“Yes, yes. Go get another tray.” You shoot him a glare before smiling back to Queen Moon. “Your Majesty. So sorry. It's so hard to find good help these days.”

“Yes, I...see that. What did you call me here for, Ludo?”

“What I wrote in the letter, of course! General Toffee isn't dead. He just got away.”

The Queen shakes her head. “That isn't what happened. He didn’t escape, Ludo. I sent General Toffee to another dimension as part of a contract we wrote, fourteen years ago.”

“With his wife?”

“He isn’t married.”

“With his girlfriend?”

She sighs. “He may have found a girlfriend on Earth. I don’t know, Ludo, I have a kingdom to run.”

“And his daughter?”

“He didn’t have a daughter then. How old is she?”

“Uh...thirteen. But she looks like she’s ten.”

“Then she was born on Earth. Again I ask you, Ludo, what’s the concern?”

“Ha, well those were trick questions! Everyone from the army knows General Toffee likes men. He even married one of his soldiers! There’s no way he has a wife, because he’s already married! And he doesn’t like girls! And you can’t get married twice!”

“...What?” She blinks at you, obviously stunned by your brilliant deductions. “Toffee was...married?”

“And you said he wasn’t! He’s still married, obviously. What is this, an Earth sitcom? He can’t get un-married.”

“....It’s called divorce, Ludo.”

You wave off her joke with a genuine laugh. “ Oh, stop it, you. Don’t be ridiculous! Septarians don’t get divorced, silly. Everyone knows that.”

“Apparently not everyone.”

“Well.” You frown thoughtfully. “You were kind of busy burning down their cities and cutting off fingers. That all sounds very distracting, but every monster knows they don’t get divorced. They’re monomagous, mogam--”

“Monogamous?”

“That’s what I said! Yes. Monomagous. That’s the word. Anyways. I think he used the woman in the house as a broodmother, and then he stole your wand!”

“That’s ridiculous, Ludo. The wand isn’t stolen. It’s been given to my daughter for her fourteenth birthday. It must be a different magic wand.”

“...You have a daughter?!”

“Yes, Ludo. She’s the crowned princess.”

“What’s her name?”

“Her name is Astera Butterfly.”

That name is so very familiar, but you can’t remember where you heard it. 

“She wasn’t public knowledge as a child.” Queen Moon continues. “We wanted her to have an ordinary childhood before we presented her to the public.”

“Then… where did that wand the Star girl has even come from?” 

You squint your eyes at her. If he found another wand, could you? Then you could take that wand too, and you’d have two wands! One for each hand! You could have DOUBLE the big boy body, and no one could stop you! This is excellent, better than you could have hoped for--but even you know this doesn’t answer very many questions. If you didn’t know any better, you would think Queen Moon was hiding something. Something… important.

Well, it’s a good thing you know better!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so, so much for comments and kudos. There's no way I could write all this without your support and feedback! Wish I could hug every single person here.


	12. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Star experiences mewberty with a nasty twist, Toffee gets back in the drug dealing game, and Angie Diaz rolls to kick some ass with surprisingly effective results.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just when Star thought her life couldn't get any weirder. Poor girl. At least this will be as bad as it gets, right? Right?

Be Queen Moon the Undaunted.

There’s something about mornings that you love as an adult. Mornings were the enemy in your teenage years; the sun heralding an end to sleep, to dreams, to privacy, and to quiet. You dreaded them every night. 

Now that you’re Queen, and can order the staff to keep out of your room until you leave it for the day, you wake up early every morning to start your day with a cup of tea. Your husband snores quietly in the distance while you set a kettle to boil with your magic, spooning tea grounds into the cup the same way you do every morning since you were crowned. No matter how chaotic your life may feel, you take comfort in the fact that not everything has to change. Not everything has to be hectic for you. Peace won’t always come easily to you, but you can create it, if only for a few minutes.

Once, this was your mother’s ritual. It’s been a long time since you let yourself think of it, of watching her boil water the same way you do now, tapping her spoon on the edge of her cup to keep it from dripping before tucking it onto her saucer. You copy the motion as you remember it.

You’ve been thinking a lot of your late mother. It’s unavoidable, really, considering you now see her killer on a regular basis. You find yourself wondering far too frequently what your mother would have done, if she were here. How she would have handled this. In your heart of hearts, you know she would have done things differently.

She would have warned you away from Toffee in the first place, you think. Keep away from him, Moon, and remember you have a decent man already in love with you. You should have married River the day you were of age and been done with it. None of this would have ever happened. You’re torn between that thought of what it would be like to have an ordinary family situation and cutting guilt you can’t hold back for wishing Star was never born. Maybe she would have been born differently. She would be River’s daughter, she would be mewman and she wouldn’t hate you or your husband.

That last sentiment is what your swirling thoughts come down on this morning. River. Your dependable, predictable beloved, the man who supports you every day and every night. He’s quietly upset with you, and what’s worse? You know it’s well-deserved. He hasn’t spoken about it yet, he hates to fight, but you feel the tension in every moment you’re alone together. Something is bothering him, and you have a good guess as to what that is.

The two of you never talked about Toffee. He must have known, being so close to you as he was, or at least guessed you were doing something wrong. When the whole affair ended so poorly and you very nearly died to bring Star into the world, he didn’t say a word about it beyond how glad he was you and your daughter (his words) survived. River isn’t the kind of man that revels in ‘I told you so’ or being offended. He’s never been that way. Not even having another man’s child drove him to anger--unless he’s better at hiding it than you think. 

If there’s one thing this part of your life has taught you, it’s a spot of humility in regards to how well you read people and their intentions. For all you know he’s always been angry. He’s been waiting for the opportunity to stab you in the back. You would never expect it from him, but then, you never expected it from Toffee until the knife found purchase and he nearly killed you.

And yet you can’t shake the notion that River doesn’t seem angry now. You stir your tea again absently before taking a sip. If anything, he seems...disappointed. There wasn’t a hint of anger or embarrassment when Star came to live in the castle or, at least, not one you could detect. He simply didn’t speak to her. Historically, you know there are famous examples of jealous kings doing all they can to kill or invalidate the rights of illegitimate children. 

Despite the wealth of examples and testimonials from other queens in other nations who never saw it coming, that doesn’t feel like your husband. River is nothing if not humble. He didn’t marry you to see his daughter on the throne. You could swear, watching his expressions so carefully as you did the first time he saw Star’s face or heard her voice, that he wanted to talk to her then.

That’s a matter for another time. The mirror fixed to your private study wall is ringing, drawing you from your thoughts and back to the present. Right, you think. Business as usual.

Only the call isn’t the ordinary morning call you expected. In hindsight, you might have guessed that--few call you so early, though the clock near your bedside informs you it’s nearly eight o’ clock. Perhaps it’s the Lucitor family? Wrathmelia did mention wanting to speak with you, though you can’t imagine what she has in mind--

Toffee is calling you.

It might be Star, you think, though you doubt it. She’s never intentionally called you before. Once, when she was trying to call the Lucitor boy (and that may be what Wrathmelia wants to discuss, come to think of it) and dialed you by mistake. She hung up promptly. Only an emergency would warrant a call from this line. Stop thinking about it, Moon. If it’s an emergency, then you’re wasting time. It may be another misdial, you shouldn’t--you should. Don’t be a coward, Moon. Answer the call.

“Toffee.” His sharp features flash into view. There he is, the last person you want to see this morning over your cooling cup of tea. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I think nearly a whole life of disdain should keep you straight about my feelings towards you, despite this call. I despise you and you’re the last person in the world I want to ask for help.”

One of you has to be the bigger person here, you remind yourself. There should be at least one reasonable adult in this mirror call. “I’m hardly going to forget that. What do you need?”

“There’s something wrong with my daughter. One of her eyes is a glowing heart, she can hardly speak, and I _desperately_ need to know if this is your fault.” 

“My fault? What--”

“Your fault, the fault of your genetics, it's a useless distinction right now. Is this normal for Mewman children? Nothing I’ve read or collected tells me anything.” Toffee snaps. “I need answers, Moon! Promptly!”

“...Goodness. She’s likely going through mewberty, an ordinary stage of development for a young lady with her extremely magical blood. Has she sprouted her extra arms yet?” 

“What do you mean, extra arms?!”

“No, then.”

“Papa…” Star mumbles, out of view of the mirror. “Am I dying?”

“No!” You both say, though Toffee is definitely more vehement about it.

“...Let me talk to her, please. It's odd that only one eye is affected, but she may just be a late bloomer. Partial mewberty does happen sometimes.” You try to keep your tone neutral and calm to offset Toffee’s obvious fear. “Some girls will go through two or even three partial transformations before they’re successful. Do Septarians have anything equivalent to this?”

“Papa.” Star sounds further away now, quiet and terrified. “My s-skin is, is…”

“Oh, thank the gods, that’s normal.” Toffee vanishes from your mirror for a moment, returning with Star in hand. 

Her scales have turned a deep violet, silvery hair glinting metallic in the sunlight. One tiny clawed hand covers her left eye, too small to hide the entire glowing heart you recognize as the pupation of an Omatida eye. More horrifyingly, it seems the right half of her face is...peeling off. 

“It’s alright,” He promises her, and rubs against her peeling cheek reassuringly while he’s tying her wild hair back and out of her face. “Molting is normal, we’ve talked about this before. It just means you’re growing.”

Star sniffles. Now you see the tears in her remaining yellow eye. “My sides…”

As expected, her extra arms burst out moments later through skin and dress alike. More unexpectedly, Star screams--a terrible, painful noise that makes your chest hurt. You have to look away when the skin on her arms starts peeling off to match her face. Toffee looks as though a stiff breeze might knock him off his feet as Star muffles another scream of pain with both hands. He tucks her increasingly unwieldy form close to his chest. Not for the first time, you cringe seeing how small she is. She might look more delicate when she’s upset, you reason. She looks closer to ten than thirteen when she’s curled up, agonized and crying in her father’s arms. Is that your fault? Is that something you caused?

“This isn’t right.” You fight the urge to touch the mirror, despite knowing you can’t touch her. “She shouldn’t be lucid for this part.”

“Then what do I do, knock her out?! That doesn’t seem like a good idea!” 

“Toffee, please.” You can hear him whisper-cursing while he tries to settle her comfortably against his chest, hiding her tears in a ridiculous attempt to protect her dignity. “She isn’t going to die. You’re frightening her.”

“Of course she won’t die.” He snaps, sounding less reassured than he should but obviously keeping a grip on his panic for Star’s sake. “She’s a resilient little girl. How long will this last?”

“It may be anywhere from a few hours to a day or two, though I’m not certain...well, it will be best to ask Glossaryck. He can sense these things, he always has.”

“Then I’ll do that.”

“If he doesn’t--”

Toffee hangs up on your before you can finish. 

“Brilliant.” You say to yourself. “Just brilliant. Of all the things to happen…”

Tea forgotten, you leave your study and nearly walk straight into your husband and the sword he keeps under his pillow.

“Oh, River! You startled me. Do put that away, dear, before you hurt someone.”

“What’s happening?” Oh, dear. “Is Star alright? I heard her voice, and a scream.”

“Yes, dear. She’ll be alright. Her mewberty is proving...complicated, though I should’ve known this might happen.”

River still looks genuinely concerned, to your surprise. “Who screamed?”

“Star. Her extra arms came in and she’s, unfortunately, still composed enough to feel it.”

“Is there anything we can do for her?”

“I’m not certain.”

“...It must be hard to watch.” He puts a hesitant hand on your shoulder. “I hate to hear a child in pain. Can’t imagine how it feels, watching her go through a thing like that. It can’t be easy.”

He doesn’t mean as an insult, but his compassion shames you nonetheless. You were so shocked by the call that you didn’t think of what you could do for your daughter at all. It isn’t as though Toffee would let you cast any spell on her when she’s so vulnerable. Not that you know that for certain. You assume it’s the case, and feel absolutely justified in doing nothing as a result. Here River is, not even Star’s parent, and he looks very much like he wants to go to Earth and check on her. Try to help her, regardless of what Toffee will do.

Part of you is (unreasonably) upset that he can sympathize with him so easily, if that’s what he meant. But he can’t help it, you think. That’s why you married River. He isn’t the brightest, but he’s a good man. Of course he wants to help. That’s why he’s your husband, why your marriage works. These days, he’s at least three-quarters of your emotional conscience. 

“...Do you think I should go to her?”

“Don’t reckon I know, Moon-Pie. It might make matters worse, true, but it might be...good, to be involved.” He’s struggling with how to phrase what he wants to say. “Her dad will be angry, but I don’t reckon he’ll ever hate us more than he does. But Star’s just a lass, too young to really hate. There’s a chance she sees you, you help her, and things are...easier, dear. I think...you should go, alone, for Star.”

“I see.”

“That Toffee fellow can’t well hurt you on his own now, and I don’t think he’ll try it anyway. But you’re Star’s mother, and it would do her good to know you care. If you’re up to it.”

And once again, his compassion shames you. Of course you should be thinking of Star instead of how Toffee will react. You might prefer being tarred and feathered to being in the same room as he is, but that’s no excuse. She’s your daughter. 

“If you’re up to it.” He repeats, though not unkindly. 

You know he’s right. 

“If she’s still affected in an hour, I’ll go and see her.”

“That's the ticket.” Your husband kisses your cheek. “Now, let's see about a spot of breakfast before you go...”

 

\----------

 

Be Toffee, having a wretched day. 

You can't stand to watch your little girl in pain. It’s unbearable. You hang up on Moon, once you’re certain this is part of the mewman life cycle and Star isn’t dying, and resolve immediately to find something that will help her.

First, you’ll speak with Glossaryck. You go to Star’s study, still holding her close to your chest. The poor girl is unconscious, likely from the pain. It’s best you don’t think too much about it.

“Tomorrow morning.” Glossaryck says, without looking up from clipping his nails. What a disgusting little man.

“Excuse me?”

“Tomorrow.” Click. “Morning.”

Click. 

“I don’t…”

“Star will be back to normal tomorrow morning.” He does look up, focusing on Star for a moment before turning his attention back to his feet. Click. “I don’t think her wings will come this time.”

“And how do you know that?”

“I just do.” Click, click, and he sighs. “Nasty business, mewberty. I haven’t seen this since Celena--Celena the Shy, as you might know her. She was Star’s second great-grandmother; Comet’s mother’s mother and, more importantly, she was half-demon. Nasty business. Star will survive. I recommend something for the pain. That’s all you can really do.”

“Not aspirin.” Erstwhile’s raspy voice makes you flinch, closer than you expected. 

Star left it on her desk. You were too preoccupied to notice it there before, and that’s for the best. Though the being’s magical and historical knowledge are priceless, it creeps you the fuck out. Whatever extended half-life the magic of that jar has given the former Chameleon’s severed head is no life worth living. That it doesn’t seem to mind being a severed head and nothing else makes your scales itch with revulsion. 

Not aspirin. You’ll remember that, but you’re not going to talk to it. It’s embarrassing how relieved you are to leave the study. Star doesn’t mind her mentors nearly so much as you do, and you’re perfectly happy to leave them alone so long as Star will wake up again to deal with them.

“You’ll be alright.” You promise your daughter, nuzzling the top of her head while you carry her back to bed. 

A quick check proves her vitals are reasonable enough that you can leave her with Angie for a short time. Were you staying with anyone else, you would have to take her with you--but you, and you hesitate to use this word, _trust_ Angie. She’s always been kind to your daughter. While you won’t claim to know her every motivation, you’re confident that any ulterior motives from Angie will have nothing to do with gaining something from your daughter and everything to do with being kind. 

Living on Earth among a race even less resilient than mewmanity is certainly challenging a few of your long-standing opinions on who you can trust. When you leave the room to find her, she’s already outside the door.

“What’s happening? I thought I heard--”

“--A scream. Yes. Star is going through an…” You shift where you stand, unsure how to phrase the explanation. “...unusual stage at the moment.”

“Unusual?”

“She’s grown four extra arms this morning.”

“Unusual is definitely a word for that. Should we take her to a hospital?”

“No. Too much of human medicine is poisonous to us, and I’ve been told her condition isn’t life-threatening so much as it is unbearably painful.” Which isn’t life threatening to her, but it might kill you to watch it happen. “I need to step out for a moment to find a painkiller that won’t poison her. Your human FDA does not allow the sale of opioids, which will be the safest and most effective for her, so I will need to...skirt the law, shall we say.”

“Do what you have to. I don’t have classes until six, I’ll keep an eye on her while you’re gone.”

“I knew you would understand.” 

You aren’t certain where laudanum can be found on Mewni, these days. It’s been a long time since you knew the ins and outs of illegal supplies and goods. If Mewman racism is good for anything, it’s that anyone selling narcotics on the side will be a monster. No one else is so well ignored or reviled. Once, you used your leverage with below-board business to supply your men when other contingencies went hungry. It’s no wonder your men were well-fed while others starved, wished desperately for an end to the war. Morale is so important.

That was, however, a long time ago. All your contacts are gone, if they were half the businessmen you expect them to be. You do, however, know where you can find monsters. Perhaps even new contacts. 

 

\----------

 

Be Angela Diaz, but prefer for people to just call you Angie.

It’s been a rough morning. You saw Marco off to school alone, and he told you Star is sick. He doesn’t know the specifics, but he’s worried. Distracted, he doesn’t complain when you send him to school with a hug, a kiss, and a quick homemade lunch for comfort.

“I’m sure she’ll be alright.” You say, kissing his cheek before he can complain about being too old for kisses from his mother. “It’s been a rough week. You’ll see her when you get back, honey.”

Marco doesn’t argue, but he doesn’t look very reassured, either. He’s always been your little old man. You smooch his other cheek for good measure and shoo him off to school. Star is indestructible, as far as you know. What could possibly hurt her?

You go back inside to attend to the forgotten cup of coffee you left on the counter, only to spill it all over yourself when a scream splits the air. Shit. You take the stairs two at a time and come to the top winded. From the landing, you can hear the raised voices of an argument in Star and Toffee’s room. You hesitate to come closer. 

While you get along very well with Toffee, he’s a very private man. He wouldn’t appreciate you listening in on a conversation without his knowledge. As much as you wonder what the hell could be happening, you’re torn between finding out what’s happening and respecting the closed door. 

There’s another scream, and you rush to the door without thinking about it. Distorted as it is, that’s Star’s voice. Is someone hurting her?! You hear Toffee’s muffled words of comfort. They aren’t being attacked, then. As much as he tries to let Star handle her own affairs, you know for a fact that anyone attacking the house would get a generous helping of lead. Perhaps straight to the gut. You’re thinking of knocking just as Toffee opens the door. 

Here’s the gist of the situation. Star is sick, in pain, and neither you or Toffee knows exactly why. The Queen says it’s normal for mewman children, but she doesn’t know why Star is awake. He’s going to find something to make her a bit more comfortable. You’re a law-abiding citizen for the most part, but you trust Toffee is only doing what’s best for his daughter. If you had to make a list of people you thought were least likely to abuse drugs, Toffee would be at the top of that list with a space beneath him before any other names, for distinction. 

“Do what you have to.” Is what you tell him, and you’re surprised that you mean it. “I don’t have classes until six, I’ll keep an eye on her while you’re gone.”

His relief is obvious. “I knew you would understand.” 

“The things we do for our kids.”

“Yes, and…” He frowns, looking you over quickly. “You have coffee on your shirt, Angie.”

You give him a quick hug. “Now you have coffee on your shirt.”

“So I do.” He doesn’t look particularly upset about it, looking down at the light stain from your mostly-milk-and-sugar morning drink with a hint of a smile. “Thank you, Angie.”

“If I knew you would be so grateful over a stain, I would have brought the rest of the coffee up.”

“That isn’t--”

“I know, I know.” You hug him again, for luck. “Go ahead. She’ll be alright, Toffee. I’ll stay with her. This isn’t my first time taking care of a sick little one, even if Marco didn’t sprout any extra arms when he went through his chickenpox.”

“Yes, well...in case Ludo is foolish enough to show his face here…” He pulls a wicked-looking sickle out of seemingly nowhere and offers it to you handle-first. “It will serve you better than a golf club, I think.”

You take the weapon carefully. It’s more simple than you would expect from a former general, but not from Toffee. He likes things that get the job done with as little fuss as possible. The curved blade has a plain wooden handle, a few symbols you don’t recognize burned into the surface. 

“What are the markings?”

“Superstition, mostly. My...subordinate was adamant I have it done.”

Equal parts nervous and excited, you lower the blade to your side. “Will Ludo try to hurt her?”

“Doubtful, but he might. Her wand is already hidden. Do be careful, Angie. Glossaryck and Erstwhile are in the next room, if you need any assistance.”

“We’ll be alright. They’ll know how to handle any magical misfires, won’t they? The only real danger here is that I might get attached to owning a sword.” You joke, toying with the sickle he handed you. “I feel safer already.”

“Then I’ll see about finding you something more appropriate for you when I return.”

It took some time, but you’ve learned to recognize the hint of a smile he gives you. He looks agitated, but that’s beyond reasonable. You sit down on the edge of the bed as he goes, brushing Star’s bangs carefully out of her face with a soft _‘hello’_ in case she can hear you.

Toffee is gone all of twenty minutes by your count when a portal opens at the foot of the bed and spits out the Queen of Mewni in full regalia. Mind you, you’re in full defense mode--you don’t think of the Queen when the portal opens, you think of other potential threats. All you see is the glimmer of a portal opening in mid-air, and you drop the book you started to read from Toffee’s desk in favor of leaping at the portal with the borrowed sickle high above your head. 

Though you’ve never taken karate lessons like your son, you have well over ten years of ballet lessons for balance and spent most of your time in college (when not in class) playing now-ancient Mortal Kombat games. That’s more or less enough for you to feel confident about going on the offensive. Only you misjudge your jump and, rather than sinking the curved blade into the home intruder on the downward arc, you collide with them in the air. Both of you go down, but you’re cushioned by their body as you land squarely under their diaphragm. 

Not bad, Angie. Not bad at all. It’s a quick hands-free scramble to pin their arms under your legs, but you’re satisfied they’re trapped. The sickle comes up and behind your head the same way you would swing a club but to the effect of decapitating someone instead of breaking bones. 

“Identify yourself!” You yell, feeling very much like a badass television secret agent. Who says moms can’t kick ass with the best?

Your victim wheezes. How anticlimactic. Now that the adrenaline is easing, you recognize her--or who they’re trying to look like if this is a trick.

“I’m… Queen Moon…”

“Right. And I’m Melania Trump." Not your _chicana_ ass, baby, but it's more likely that this person being the real queen. "The Queen doesn’t come here. Are you one of Ludo’s monsters? Answer me!”

“No, I’m…” She covers, struggling a bit to breathe with your weight on her middle. That’s just too bad, now isn’t it. “...The Queen. Star is… oof, she’s sick. Have I… gotten the wrong, ack, the wrong room?”

“This is Star’s room.” 

“Oh. Mar, Marvelous. Could you…”

“No. How do I know you’re the Queen?”

“If you,” She gasps. “Goodness, if you’d, you’d get off my wrists…”

“....No.” 

“This is not...what I expected. You’re the, the lady of the house. Ludo thinks you’re...Star’s mother, you know--Toffee’s mistress. I suppose, in that light--”

“What?” You bring the sickle down sharply in your surprise, narrowly missing her neck. Be careful, Angie! That wasn’t your intention. Queen Moon, if she really is who she says, squirms under you. “I’m already married, lady.”

“As was I. Or was soon to be...this is massively unpleasant, you know, this won’t do.”

She rolls, dumping you off her. You expected a bit of a grapple, but she sits up with a relieved gasp while you stagger to your feet with the sickle firmly in both hands. 

“Well, that was certainly unexpected.” She dusts off her dress front primly from her undignified place on the floor. “Do you greet all your guests this way?”

“Only the uninvited ones.”

“ _Touche._ An excellent point. I am, however, still Star’s mother. She’s ill. I only want to see her, and to help her if I can.” 

“Does her dad know you’re coming?”

“He would, had he not hung up on me. Where is Toffee? I have a few choice words for him, if he’s available…” She uses the desk beside her to stand with her ridiculous hoop skirt. “Choice words for setting such an aggressive guard on me, and for hanging up on me in the first place before we could finish the discussion.”

“I think he was done talking to you a long time ago. He’s not available right now.”

“A guard, and a secretary. Marvelous.” She shakes her head. “Now I can look forward to two people in this house telling me to get bent, I suppose. This is fabulous.”

“Five people.”

“Pardon?”

“Five people live here, and none of us care for you or your,” you gesture to where the portal was “habits. Why are you here?”

“As I said, I would like to see Star. Please,” she adds more softly. “Whatever Toffee’s told you about me, I’m not nearly so evil as you think. I only want to check on her. Mewberty is difficult enough without being aware during it, I can’t imagine how she’s feeling right now.”

“She isn’t feeling anything, at the moment.” You lower your guard just a fraction. If she’s really the Queen, she doesn’t sound malicious. “She’s fainted. Toffee’s gone to find medicine she can take without making things worse.”

“I should’ve thought of that, though it wouldn’t do much good--short of laudanum, I can’t imagine what we have in the royal stores. I have no idea what would make things worse for her. Septarian biology is a carefully guarded secret.”

“He’s gone dimension-hopping for prescription narcotics. Laudanum would probably work if I’m remembering what it is right. Then again, I’m not a doctor. He probably was. The man’s had enough school and careers to give Barbie a run for her money.”

“...Barbie?”

“It’s a doll for little girls, famous for--you know what, never mind.” You start pacing by the end of the bed. “You should have called. I don’t think he’d like you being around her without him. I certainly wouldn’t.”

“Of course. It’s not as though I gave birth to her, Mrs. Diaz.”

“You also let her grow up in a dungeon. Forgive me if I'm not impressed.”

“I’m not here to impress you.”

“Frankly, I don't see a better reason for you to be here.”

“I'm here to see my daughter, not to fight with you or anyone else. Please. I’ll wait until Toffee is here.”

“..She’s asleep.” 

And maybe you’re too trusting, but she sounds a lot like she’s telling you the truth. Even if you can’t imagine treating Marco the way she’s handled Star, you also can’t imagine not being allowed to see him. 

“I’ll wait. Please, Mrs. Diaz. I just want to see her.”

And so wait, she does. You decide it’s best to let your friend deal with this. It’s his business, not yours. Toffee returns exactly an hour from the time he left, after what is easily the most awkwardly silent thirty-five minutes of your life. Mercifully, Star hasn’t woken up. You can hear her shift in her sleep, sighing occasionally or mumbling incoherently. Distracted as he is by Star, you’re not confident he’s noticed the Queen sitting quietly in the corner. 

“How has she been?” He’s shuffling through the bag on his arm and retrieves a small bottle and an old-fashioned metal syringe from within, but notices the Queen when he glances over towards you and freezes.

Neither of them say anything, and after a period of tense eye contact you aren’t sure either of them will. It feels a bit like something you saw on Animal Planet once, two lions circling each other while trying to decide where to strike. Toffee, however, breaks the silence.

“What are you doing here, Moon?”

“I came to see Star. Mewberty can be… stressful, even under the best of circumstances, which these clearly are not.”

“She’s here, and alive. Not comfortable, but she will be. There. You can continue your day, feeling just a little less guilty. Was there something else you wanted?”

“...River wants to meet her.” Moon can’t seem to look at your friend while she talks about her husband. If you didn’t feel so terrible to begin with, it would be a little amusing. Not even the Queen herself can look him in the eyes. “He’s been formally introduced to her, of course, but he would like to meet her in a less...austere setting.”

“I’m sure he would.”

“Don’t say it like that. He’s not going to hurt her, Toffee, don’t be ridiculous. He just wants to know her a bit better.”

“How could you _possibly know that_?” His voice catches, half a snarl that doesn’t seem to faze the Queen. This isn’t the moment you would have chosen to bring this up, if you were her.

“He wanted me to try and help her, and he would never hurt a child. It’s what you would do.” She tells him, expression and voice perfectly flat. “Don’t mistake that for everyone else’s intentions. If he was anything like you, I never would have married him. River would never hurt Star.”

Toffee laughs. “Don’t be so confident in your judgments, Moon. You’re not half as clever or perceptive as you think you are.”

“Not everyone thinks so highly of themselves as you do.”

“Good. Not everyone deserves to be this confident. If I seem arrogant, then you’re too young to know arrogance from well-earned faith in my abilities.” 

“No one can know everything.”

“Not with that attitude, no. They certainly can’t. But I’m not claiming to know everything--only to know more than you do.” He laughs bitterly. “That’s hardly an accomplishment though, is it? Don’t insult me. I would _never_ hurt my child.”

“Am I supposed to believe that? There’s nothing you won’t do. You can’t convince me otherwise. You have no limits, no shame, and no remorse.”

This is where you would like to step in. Toffee is a lot of things, and being morally ambiguous is a personality trait for him. You don’t appreciate, however, the implication that he doesn’t care about Star. You’ve only known him for a few months, and you can easily see that not caring enough about her is the least of his problems. He’s what you might call over-protective. Traumatized, maybe, and paranoid about her wellbeing because of that--but apathetic to Star? No. Absolutely not. No one is that good an actor all the time, and he has no reason to pretend for your sake.

You hate to think about relationships like a trial, something you can prove or disprove, but you have plenty of evidence against what the Queen is saying. For one, parents who don’t care about their children don’t speak up as much as he does during PTA meetings. They don’t bake two hundred cupcakes for bake sale to fund extracurriculars their child mentioned off-hand two weeks before, on the off chance they want to learn how to play chess in the ever-fundless chess club. 

Parents who don’t care about their children don’t give up their personal privacy to co-sleep, they don’t learn several hundred years of Earth math to help their child pass a basic algebra class or study another world’s history to help them with lessons, and they most certainly don’t face up against the most magically powerful being in another dimension to argue about their child’s safety and privacy. 

“Don’t.” He puts a hand on your arm without looking at you, guessing ( _correctly_ ) that you were about to join the argument. “She won’t listen to you.”

To the Queen, he adds: “If you want to see her, here she is. Look with your eyes, not your hands, and then leave us alone. She’s having a terrible day. Seeing you will make matters that much worse. Regardless of what you think, my daughter isn’t here to assuage your guilt.”

“I see. Only your guilt, then?”

Toffee rolls his eyes at her, waving her words off as he turns his back on her to tend to his daughter. “Bold of you to assume I feel guilt. I have no remorse, remember? If you want to see here, she’s here. Otherwise, you should leave.”

The Queen, head held high, exits through the same portal she entered through. You sigh with relief, feeling the air in the room lighten. That will, with any luck, be the last time you have to see Queen Moon in person.

 

\----------

 

Be Star, but changing.

You’re curled up between Marco and Ferguson, enjoying the warmth and petting Janna’s hair distractedly when she leans back against your stomach. Oskar is upside-down next to Ferguson on his other side, with his ferret laying belly-up on his chest and the back of his head on Alphonso’s shoulder. Starfan13--or Thirteen, as Ms. Angie calls her--is between Janna and Alphonso on the floor, leaning on Ferguson’s legs. You’re all in a pile of teenagers. 

It would be probably be just a teeeensy bit embarrassinglaying on everyone would be, if it wasn’t so funny right now. They all really followed Marco home, and Janna went out for candy and just an obscene number of chicken nuggets. There’s also a gallon of iced tea. You didn’t know you could get that at the McGas-station!

“Only in America,” Janna jokes, pouring you a cup. 

You just giggle. Oops, you must have said McGas-station out loud. Whatever Papa gave you for the pain is making your head fuzzy. Everything feels very far away, and kind of funny. You were mad at first when everyone showed up, but not it’s just...so hard, so hard to be mad. Why would you be mad? That’s such a funny word. Maaaaad. Maaa-aaad. Maaaaaaaaaaad. According to Marco, who’s listening to your stream-of-conscious, only half-spoken ramble that you didn’t mean to speak at all, you’re ‘high.’

“I’m on the couch .” You don’t understand. It’s only two feet off the ground, isn’t it? That’s not very high at all. “High where?”

According to Ferguson, you’re ‘tripping balls.’ Janna laughs, so does Marco, but you don’t know why. That sounds dangerous, and inconvenient, or completely impossible. Balls don’t even have legs, how can you trip them?! You say as much aloud and everyone laughs.

“Just go to sleep.” Janna suggests. “I won’t let anyone draw on your face. I promise.”

“Oh….”

“And I won’t let Janna draw on your face.” Marco pats your hair gently. “Since she’s totally got a marker in her pocket.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Turn them out, then.”

“I plead the fifth, Diaz. This is unlawful search and seizure. You get five to ten years for that, cop or not.” She laughs at her own joke when you laugh too. “See? The lady here gets it. Can I interest you in a Starburst, Starburst?”

That gets more giggling. Do you always laugh like this? It sounds really high-pitched to you right now, and you’re having a hard time unwrapping the little candy Janna put in your hand. Oh well. You decide to just hold on to it. Very carefully. And narrate this. It's important.

“Do want to try something, though.” She sits up on her knees, turns away from the TV to face you, and waves a hand in front of your eyes. “Try to follow it with your eyes, okay? I’m gonna show you a magic trick.”

Suddenly her hands are whipping back and forth faster than your eyes can see. They’re a tan blur. You can't even see past her hands, they’re making a solid wall of color...but moving.

“You have...super speed.” You realize, dazed and amazed. 

“Exactly! I’m a superhero, actually, but you can’t tell anyone. Okay?” She winks at you. 

“....What’s a superhero?”

“Oh, Starburst. Diaz is failing you as a pop culture teacher. F-, Diaz. Let’s get this girl some superhero anime. This is what you get for being best friends with a dumb nerd, girl.”

“But I’m a nerd.” 

“You’re precious, that’s what you are. C’mere, you.”

Janna hugs you around the middle, burying her face in your stomach. You hug her with one, two sets of arms and she gives a happy little sigh.

“Hey Diaz?” She mumbles. “Feel Star’s shirt.”

“She’s laying in my lap. I can feel her shirt.”

“Do you know what it’s made of?”

“Don’t do this.”

“What’s it made of?” Oskar asks. You forgot he was here!

“ _Os-kar._ ” You whisper, way too quiet for anyone to hear but possibly Janna. “ _Osss-kar…_ ”

Janna pats your top shoulders. “It’s waifu material, my dude. Pure, 100% organic waifu material.”

“What’s….a waifu?” 

“You’re a waifu.” Thirteen says, also petting your shirt. “Janna’s right. 100% organic waifu. And so soft…”

Janna laughs into your stomach. “Don’t worry about it, babe. Your extra arms are the best. Twice the hugging power.”

You hug her with your original set of arms, too.

“Three times the hugging power. Thrice the hug. This is the life, boys.” Janna settles happily in your triple hug combo, before turning back to the TV. “This is the life.”

It’s so nice to have friends, even if the last thing you thought you wanted was for them to see you like this--especially Oskar. What you didn’t expect? They don’t seem to care. In a moment of less-fuzzy thought, you’re grateful that Marco let them come over. 

You love your friends. You have friends! I have friends, you think to yourself, amazed by the idea. This is so much better than waiting out your weird alien puberty alone.

 

\----------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took just...so much self-control not to post this last night and see what you guys think of it. As always, thank you so much for kudos and comments! You're all the kickass ballerina nerds with sickles of my heart. Special thanks to [Allusion_Conclusion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allusion_Conclusion/pseuds/Allusion_Conclusion), [Megxolotl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Megxolotl/pseuds/Megxolotl), [LadyGeoconda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyGeoconda/pseuds/LadyGeoconda), and [Consort_of_Cosmos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Consort_of_Cosmos/pseuds/Consort_of_Cosmos) as well as [Arkenna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arkenna/pseuds/Arkenna) and another anonymous user for sharing their thoughts and theories! You all making writing and posting this work so much more fun than it would be otherwise and I'm so glad you're enjoying yourselves here.


	13. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco grows a beard, but so does the house. Ludo has a rare moment of insight before doing exactly what he shouldn't be doing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot going on here. This is the longest chapter so far (just short of 8k words) and it's...definitely a turning point. Things get real.

Be Marco.

It’s stupid. You know it’s stupid. But you heard Jackie say how much she likes guys with beards while you were passing her in the hallway and you’ve been trying to grow one ever since. Forget all the scientific facts you know about people maturing at different rates and facial hair coming in at different ages. You’ve got to grow a beard.

It’s nice that some things never change, you think. Star entered your life in a puff of smoke out of pure chance, you go on interdimensional adventures and fight monsters with her. Aliens do exist, and one of them is your best friend. You’ll never look at internet posts about alien culture or fantasy racism the same way again, but you’re still just a normal teenage boy with a normal (you hope) teenage crush on the coolest girl you know. 

“Hey Marco.” Jackie says, rolling past you on the skateboard she’s definitely not supposed to use in the halls, and you’re already composing your next diary entry. “Hey Star.”

“Hi Jackie!” Star calls back. God, you wish you were that brave.

“She’s so cool.” Is all you can say, and even then you have to wait until she’s too far to hear you. “Wow. She’s so cool.”

“You could talk to her.”

“No, Star, I can’t. That’s a year away in my plans, I can’t just...talk to her.” You can’t just talk to her, not when you’re this painfully uncool. “There’s no way.”

“I think you’re pretty cool. I’ve been reading some of Janna’s books, you know, and it seems like supernatural happenings make guys at least 40% cooler than everyone else by default. If we made a Scale of Cool, you’re already 40% ahead now and you don’t even need a mustache. I think you’re--shoot, not again.”

Star closed her locker way too hard again. You heard the little ‘reeeeet’ of complaint from the metal door, and look away from Jackie’s retreating figure to see the nasty dent she’s made. “Yikes. That’s the third time this week.”

She looks mournfully down at the dent. “And we’re only three days into the week. I’ve got to get better at being careful.”

“This didn’t happen before the Incident, did it?” Both of you call her weird and terrible metamorphosis/pupation/puberty ‘the Incident’ now. “I mean, you were stronger than most people, but…”

“Nope. It didn’t. And I’m up to your shoulder now, if you didn’t notice.”

“I noticed.”

“Now all my skirts break dress-code, and I keep breaking my stupid locker.”

“Do you want me to--?”

“Nope, the janitor will be pissed. I can fix it. Lenis,” she tells her locker door, closing her eyes with concentration. One hand disappears into her bag to hold her hidden wand. Ms. Skullnick sent around a petition after her accidental transformation into a troll, and Star’s not allowed to have her wand out during school anymore. Probably for the best. 

There’s another unhappy squeal of metal, but it no longer looks like someone hit the edge with a hammer. Yikes. Not for the first time, you’re relieved she’s Star and not an alien overlord come to take over earth, because these days you think she could probably punch through the side of a tank. 

Sure she was strong before (like most Varanese people, you guess, since you’ve seen her dad lift up the side of your dad’s Generic Midsized SUV and change a flat tire one-handed), but you didn’t have a great idea of the strength-to-size ratio until now. Star breaks her locker trying to bang it closed, her dad casually picks up cars, and no one was kidding when they said Star would be a lethal volleyball player. Woof. That’s one spike you wouldn’t dive for. You, for one, are relieved she and her dad (mostly) come in peace.

“See? Fixed. Until I have to open it again, anyways.”

“Hey, Star?” An idea is dawning on you. Of course. Your best friend can do magic!

“Hey, Marco?”

“You can do magic.”

“Well...yeah, silly, that’s kind of why I’m on Earth. What about it?”

This is a terrible idea and you should know it from the whole monster arm debacle, but that was Tom. Star totally fixed the whole thing in under a minute. She could do this, right? She could totally do this.

“Could you use magic to help me grow a beard?”

 

\----------

 

It doesn’t even occur to you how badly this will end. Bad idea! Wrong! Wrongest, baddest idea! 

You’re an idiot, Marco! You’re a dumb idiot, and apparently almost killing a little kid and ending up in the hospital wasn’t enough of a lesson for you, because the universe is reinforcing what you already knew deep down to be truth. Magic and you don’t mix.

It all starts out pretty normal. You and Star walked home from school like normal. She’s chatting about her day and how Brittany Wong made a big stink about not sitting next to her in their Latin class, most having a laugh at Brittany’s expense. It’s nice to see how much she’s opened up, especially since her butterfly-style mewberty thing. A month ago you couldn’t imagine Star acting like a normal kid. Now she’s skipping along like any other girl in your grade, maybe even a little happier than most of the girls you know, laughing over the rudest girl in your grade like it’s not even a thing. This is...really nice.

“If she thinks my scales are contagious, she should really stop sleeping through her applied biology class. Who even takes applied biology? Anyway, she wishes she could be this lucky. One of us is a lot harder to stab now, and it’s not her. I thought Janna was going to, what’s the saying, ‘throw hands’ with her? But I just went ahead and moved over a desk so she could sit next to Erin instead.” 

“Ugh. Is she still playing that rich girl card with teachers?”

“Of course she is. Forget about how I’m a literal princess and the ounce of gold in the bottom of my bag is worth a thousand bucks, but I’m not bitter. Brittany’s going to regret being rude when she tries to cheat on the Friday quiz and copies Erin’s garbage past-tense translations instead of mine--so just a normal day, I guess. I think Mr. Brent just lets Janna and I pass notes now, because they’re always in Latin anyways. Ready to help me find a beard spell?”

“Oh, yeah! That’s right!” Eight hours of school and a little gossip can make you forget even the most exciting morning epiphanies. “Should we do homework first? I’ve got like ten pages to read for World History, and that Lit essay for Friday…”

“Don’t forget about the 3.5 worksheet for algebra. Did your Bio period finish the lab write-up? Half of third period didn’t, but we’re a day behind anyways. I don’t know if it’s due tomorrow.”

“The board said that’s due for everyone by Monday, Mrs. Z is using ‘ _Turnitin_ ’ for papers now.”

“Sweet. It’s only Wednesday, right? So that’s just History, final essay drafts, and the 3.5 for us. Did you get any Health homework?”

“I did while the coach was talking.” You shake your head in mock-disappointment. “It’s like they’re not even trying to pretend he’s qualified to teach anymore. We sat there for an hour and a half reading the chapter and answering questions. So dumb.”

“So glad I don’t have to take that class.”

“And you don’t have to take PE. So unfair.”

“Well, remember that I was supposed to take it, and then that I’ve broken my locker three out of three days this week.”

“At least I don’t have that one either.” For different reasons, thankfully. You’re not sure how you’d feel about having that kind of strength on the regular. “Sensei actually signed that paper, so I’m set on PE as long as I’m in karate.”

“Score. I heard somebody cut the climbing rope last week.”

“That was Janna, right?”

“Oh definitely. Shoot, I have to draw some kind of picture for that Angry Grape movie in Humanities. I can’t wait for next semester, when I can just take shop. Could you...” She gestures to the front door as you come to it, looking at the slightly out-of-shape doorknob sheepishly. “I should fix that.”

You open it for her, and direct her into the house with a dramatic bow. “Right this way, princess. And don’t even worry about it. My mom wants to replace the whole door anyways. She’s gonna me chop it up to use for board-breaking practice. After we pick out a new door, though, so good call on being careful.”

“I’ll get used to it eventually. I hope. Okay--” She dumps her bag at the end of the kitchen counter, and you do the same. “Snacks, magic, and then normal homework?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Oh, it was a plan, alright. Just not a good one. Not that you know that until the next morning, when you’re admiring your new facial hair in the mirror while Star brushes her hair hands-free nearby. In hindsight the order of what you did doesn’t matter, because you’re just screwed. Finding the incantation wasn’t hard, and it went really well--no pain or anything. Your cheeks and chin tingle a little, there’s a little bit of immediate stubble, and Star suggests that you’ll wake up with some totally sick facial hair.

And you do! In fact, everything seems to be going the way you thought it would. You wake up with a full, glorious mane of a beard that you can’t stop touching while you stare at your reflection. It looks...so cool.

“This is so awesome.”

You were soon to change your mind, however. All you wanted to do was trim the ends a little, you know? Some guys can rock the full beard with little braids, looking like they were born a dwarf from Lord of the Rings but taller. You, on the other hand, think you should probably leave that to the professionals and lose an inch or two. No big deal.

Like you said before, wrong! You are the wrongest! It didn’t seem like a big deal to you, but your new magic facial hair doesn’t agree. That’s what you assume, anyways, when you go to make the first snip and get the scissors smacked out of your hand by a living tendril of hair. Star jumps to avoid the rush of hair sweeping her off her feet, hairbrush abandoned on the counter and wand in hand, but she just narrowly misses a clear spot on the floor and gets forced out of the room by a tidal wave of angry magic beard.

“Not again,” You say to yourself, barely able to hear yourself talk. “OH, COME ON!”

At least Star can fix it right away. You know she didn’t mean to do this, you know exactly the words and process she used to cast on you in the first place. Even you know it was a solid, safe-sounding spell. She even had a plan for something like this--not exactly, but she can’t know everything. There was a whole discussion. 

It’s going to be fine. You won’t even be late to school, right? No way it will take her thirty minutes to vanish the mess and put your face back. You’ll get free, walk to school like normal, and vow to never rush your body’s natural processes ever again.

Except there, glimmering between more living tendrils of hair, is Star’s wand. The wand she needs to cast spells with any kind of accuracy.

Well. Shit. There goes first period. 

 

\----------

 

Be Ludo.

You’ve done nothing but stupid, boring research for days. It’s all so boring you’re not sure how many days you’ve even been doing it. All your men are bored. You’re bored. Everyone is bored, and no one knows anything new about General Toffee or his species. More time passes. You’ve started staring blankly out the window while Buff Frog reads to you. He paused his reading for a minute to find another book, satisfied 

“...Is last book, one from vault. Looks like...travel guide, for city of Akaross in Septarsis.”

“That’s no good. Queen Comet burnt that one, didn’t she?”

“You are thinking of other city. This one is burned by different queen, hundred years ago. Maybe more. I hear was lovely in the summertime--if you are Septarsis native.”

“What if you’re not?”

“Very bad, I hear. Little book may tell us.”

You sigh, reclining in your comfy swivel chair full of pillows. “Fine. Read it to me.”

Buff Frog takes a sip of water before he starts reading. There's something about greetings, but when he starts talking about where pathways are and something about which way to travel, well, your eyes start to droop. It's just so warm in the study. A hearty fire crackles in your hearth not five feet away. If only you had some blankets to bundle up in, you think. Despite your best efforts, you eyes drift slowly shut.

“Boss...Ludo!”

Ack! You almost fall out of your chair. “I wasn’t sleeping!”

If you didn't know better, you might say Buff Frog looks...troubled is a good word for it. Huh, and here you wouldn't have thought a guidebook could make someone so morose when it only strikes you as mildly creep. Guidebooks aren't made to outlast their cities. It's a weird, a weird feeling in your stomach that you have right now. You want to finish the book and be done with it already.

.“...Yes, boss. This passage, is...is odd. It says ‘ _Customs of Native Species._ ’ Big letters. First, is bolded--’ _Do not._ ’”

“Oh. What are you waiting for? Read it to me!”

He clears his throat. “ _Do Not_. Is list. First item, ‘ _Septarsis has few cultural taboos. In case you do not know, is very rare to meet child--_ ’boss?”

“I wasn’t sleeping!”

“Please to be paying attention. Book is saying Septarian children are very rare.” He takes a moment to scan ahead. “...It says, _The native people watch children very closely. You will not meet, unless you are close to family with child. If child is in public, you do not approach. Do not speak to, do not_...boss?” 

“...Yes?”

“ _For all the laws and riches of Septarsis, is children they value most._ Ludo.” He frowns down at the book. “This is very old travel guide, yes?”

“My father always bought used things. Give me that!”

He hands you the book obediently. “Is guide book for lost city. Very old. Before war starts with Septarsis.”

“Oh, well.” You toss it casually in the direction of the fire, and Buff Frog dives for it. No fair! It was actually going to make it to the fire, you could feel it!

“NO!”

“But you said it was old!”

“Is old, yes! Is before censorship by King Seth!” He flips through it quickly, finding the page he was on before you snatched it away. “Information here is true. Includes weakness. For adult Septarian with baby, is baby. General Toffee has baby.”

“Yes, well, and I’m not trying to be a Negative Nancy here, but his daughter is...powerful.”

“Yes, but we do not need fight her this time. If she is trapped…”

“....Then she’s trapped?”

“No, Ludo. Then we say we can hurt her.”

You frown. “We can’t hurt her. She’s invincible.”

“Her dad does not need know this. I think...for plan to work we take her away, yes? Briefly. We find prison to hold her, we keep her, we tell him we hurt her if he does not give wand.”

“...But we can’t hurt her.”

“No.” Buff Frog is frowning seriously down at the little blue and yellow guidebook. “Can hurt. We cannot kill. Is difference. I will tell you this now, Ludo--is dangerous plan. Will get us wand, if done right, but General Toffee will not be forgetting this. I do not like it.”

You’re thinking about it a little more now. What seemed ridiculous and impossible before is seeming...well, it seems like it could work! And you don’t even have to hurt Star. She’s just a little girl. Mewmans call you and your men monsters, but you would never actually hurt a kid. Not even General Toffee’s kid. It would be play-acting. You always loved theater.

“I always loved theater.”

“Is not just acting, Ludo.”

“But if we don’t really hurt her, then he won’t be mad! We’ll just pretend, take the wand, and give her back!” It’s brilliant! Foolproof! “They can find another wand.”

“We can find other wand.”

“No. I want that one.”

“But--”

“I WANT THAT ONE! AND I WANT GENERAL TOFFEE TO TAKE ME SERIOUSLY!”

“...Boss.” Buff Frog puts a clammy hand on your shoulder as you take a deep breath, then take a sip of from your favorite bendy-straw cup. It has the little printed flowers dancing around little printed giraffes. You love this cup. “Maybe...is not important what Toffee thinks. If we are dead, does not matter if we should be taken seriously.”

“You think General Toffee could kill us all?”

“Yes.”

That’s not the answer you expected, and you don’t like it. But you’ll show him, won’t you? Yes, you will! There’s no need to argue about it. You take another long drink of your juice, smiling evilly down at the giraffe-and-flower print cup lid. Yes, you’ll show Buff Frog. You’ll show stupid General Toffee. Everyone will have to remember who’s in charge here. This plan is great, and it’s going to work perfectly. You’re sure of it. All you need is an opening.

 

\----------

 

Buff Frog gets much quieter after that conversation in the study. He suggests you shouldn’t go back to the Star girl’s house, you told him he was being silly after you were finished explaining the plan to the rest of your men. 

He knows better than anyone else that Toffee goes for an afternoon run every day but human Sunday, and that he’s always gone for an hour and a half at least, sometimes two hours. That’s plenty of time for a stealth mission! You’ll go in, you’ll put Star in a trap, you’ll take the wand. Maybe you’ll even be gone before Toffee gets back! You won’t even have to pretend to hurt her. That’s good, because thinking about that part makes your stomach hurt a little bit. Maybe you’re just drinking too much juice. 

“I do not like this, boss.” Buff Frog crosses his arms as your men walk down the sidewalk towards the house. “Mark these words. I do not like this. Nothing good can come of going inside house that General Toffee says to stay away from.”

“Oh, you’re always so serious!”

“Very serious, Ludo. Serious as General Toffee is serious. If we are discovered while trying to take little Star girl--”

Whatever blah-blah-blah he was saying is interrupted by an explosion inside the house. No, not an explosion. A hair-splosion. That’s much worse! Star Uhlayiss herself comes flying out the broken front door with blood in her hair and her arm at an odd angle, scooting along the driveway until she comes to a stop halfway down.

“Shit!” She scrabbles to her feet while you’re lost in a hair-related memory of childhood trauma. “Shit, _shit_ , SHIT! Marco!”

“STAR UHLAYISS!” You crow. “AT LAST!”

“Oh. Hi Ludo.” For a little, unarmed girl facing down her father’s replacement in the Monster Army and a couple of really big monsters, she doesn’t look scared at all. But she never does. Septarians are all so hard to read. Is she...taller than the last time you saw her?

“...Hi, Star.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Stealing your wand, of course!”

“Well...okay. It’s still upstairs, though. Are you supposed to be here?”

“What?”

“I mean, my dad said… well, he’s not here, anyway. It’s fine. We’re not supposed to do battle in the house, but I sort of already broke the whole house today, so maybe it doesn’t matter. You probably can’t make it worse. Do you want to race?”

“....What?”

“Race. To the wand. Do you want to?”

“No. I mean--”

“That’s cool. It’s kind of gross, isn’t it?” She gestures toward the front door. “Bleh. Too much hair. I think Marco will probably want some McGas-station fries after this, and we’ll walk over. We could do battle then?

“No?” It comes out a question, but in your defense, you’re a little surprised. You always forget how nice the Star girl is, compared to her father. Be strong, Ludo. Remember why you’re here. “GET HER!”

“Oh, okay, well--”

You pop the magic cube you found in your father’s vault with the guidebook to Akaross. It’s Buff Frog’s idea. You spent half the night playing with it, making sure she wouldn’t be able to get out. It’s even got a nifty little remote to change the size and shape!

“Huh. Okay.” Maybe it’s your imagination, but Star doesn’t look upset about being trapped in the cube at all. “You got me.”

“YES! TREMBLE BEFORE MY PLAN, I AM--”

“--Not scary?” It’s not just your imagination. She doesn’t even look uncomfortable. Instead of panicking like you hoped she would, she just sits down in about the middle of the transparent cube-rectangle-thing. “It’s okay, Ludo. Keep practicing. What are we gonna do now?”

“Buff Frog is doing to torture you!”

“Er, boss--”

“Okay! I’ve never been tortured before. It’s gonna be kinda hard to do that, though, since my scales have gotten waaaay thicker in the last few days. Here, touch ‘em.” She offers you her arm against the wall of the cube. 

“...I don’t want to touch them.”

“They feel really cool.” She runs her claw-tips over her arm, and the resulting rasp makes your whole beak hurt. 

“Stop that!”

“Stop what? This?” _Rasp, rasp, rasp._ That’s. Disgusting. That’s the worst sound.

“STOP THAT!”

“Okay, suit yourself. Janna think they’re pretty cool.”

“Who is...Janna?”

“She’s an Earth witch! Isn’t that sick? I thought there was no magic here at all, but she can read my fortune with these really cool human tarot cards and--”

“Stop! I don’t care!”

“Wow. That’s pretty rude.” She crosses her arms. “Are you going to torture me, or not?”

“I’m going to wait for General Toffee to come back.”

“Oh, yikes-a-roni and cheese.”

“...What?”

“Nothing. Yikes-a-roni and cheese! It’s something Oskar says.” Star leans a little bit closer to the edge of the cube, still not looking upset at all about what’s going on. “Between you and me, he’s kiiiiind of my boyfriend now. We haven’t talked a lot about it, but it really seems like it’s going that way, and since my first date ever was kind of a disaster because of the whole monster arm, tentacle thing, I think the movie we went to was nice! It was all about--”

Teenage girls. Are so. Talkative. 

“Anyway you can’t tell my dad about it, okay? I still haven’t decided how to tell him. There was a whole thing last week where I got a bunch of extra arms, he came to my house, we eat lunch together now and I really expected you to crash our movie date a little, kind of hoped you would so I could rescue Oskar. But it’s okay! You’re probably really busy.”

“.......You wanted me to crash your date?”

“I just think it would have been cool to save Oskar from a big, bad group of tough-looking monsters. Then he would really notice me. I can even pick him up now!”

You’re trying and failing at not being flattered. Why is Star so nice, when her dad is so...evil? She called your men big, bad, tough-looking monsters! That’s so nice of her! You almost feel bad that you’re probably going to have to (pretend) torture her. 

“Aren’t you charming! We never talk, you know, it’s so nice to catch up. Is this boy being nice to you, Star?

“Yeah! He’s really talented musician and he’s _super_ sweet. I mean, I could snap him in half like a toothpick, so it’s not like I’m in danger or anything. We talk all the time on my compact.”

“That’s good. Communication is so important, I always say--” You look up at Buff Frog, who has his arms crossed now. A little embarrassed, you cross your arms back. Now everyone is crossing their arms. “What?”

“Do not mean to be interrupting,” Buff Frog says, interrupting you. “But is not time for gossip and catching-up. We must move indestructible cube to garage, and send men after wand. Trap is only back-up plan. Is better to get wand and go, before General Toffee--”

“--Gets back from his run. I know, I know! Okay.” You turn away from Star and to your men. “Go upstairs and get that wand!”

It’s taking longer than you thought to get upstairs. Giraffe comes back outside through the garage with beard-hair in his teeth to say they can’t find the stairs. It’s been ten minutes! This isn’t what you don’t pay them for! Spike Balls and Man-Arm carry the cube-rectangle-cage-thing into the empty garage. Good! The human family isn’t home! But just as you turn to Buff Frog to remark on how well this is all going, you see Star. Sitting on the floor of the cube. With her compact mirror.

“Buff Frog,” You screech. “You didn’t TAKE HER MIRROR!!!”

All the color drains from his face.

“TAKE IT FROM HER!!!!”

“Relax.” Star doesn’t look up from texting. “Seriously. I’m just texting Oskar.”

“...Really?”

“Yeah. Who else would I be texting?”

“....General Toffee?” Whoops, you shouldn’t have said that. She can’t text him, that will ruin your whole plan! 

Or will it? That’s a thought. Maybe if you pull off your whole pretend-torture plan, then he’ll let you keep the wand. Maybe he’ll even apologize for calling you a joke! That could be good, yes, you can see it now--but maybe that should wait until after you have the wand. Then you can stop him from, you know….what was the term he used? Skullfucking you. In the eyes. It’s probably a good thing she wasn’t texting him just now. You really hope she wasn’t. But then again, she’s been so nice! She wouldn’t lie to you, would she?

“Nah. Just Oskar.” She confirms, and you relax. “Do you want me to read it to you?”

You pause for a second to think about that. There some...curiosity. Some wonder. How does one...get a boyfriend? Are there always texts? You don’t know how to text at all. Besides, if she’s reading you the text to her boyfriend then she can’t have time to text the General.

“Yes. Read it to me, and then you have to give the nice frogman your mirror.”

“Okay. Ahem.” She wiggles a little in place while scrolling up her screen. “ _At the house, but Ludo’s here too._ Frowny-face. _He put me in a glass cube in the garage, but I messed up a spell and he can’t get upstairs to get my wand because the house is full of hair. How’s your run going?_ ”

“Your boyfriend runs?”

“Oh, no!” Star laughs. “Oskar, running? No way. Nope, whoops, that’s the text I sent to my dad. Look, he says he’s coming back!”

“He WHAT?!”

“Hey, that’s him.” Your little captive gives you a much sharper smile than you’ve ever seen, as she waves to the figure coming up the driveway. Really fast. “Hi Papa! Do you still want my mirror? Because you’re about to be dead.”

While you already knew that Septarians are usually more physically capable than you in every way, that doesn’t prepare you for _The_ Septarian, the propaganda poster child of evil lizard men everywhere, sprinting up the cement on all fours with his jaws snapping like some terrifying Earth horror movie you can’t watch too close to bedtime. 

You learn a couple things at once in the split second of terrifying inaction before everything snaps back into real time. One, you took a calculated risk. Two, you’re so bad at math. Three, you better run if you plan on surviving this very, very bad idea you decided to try out. 

“CLOSE THE DOOR!” You howl to Man-Arm. “DON’T LET HIM IN!”

Man-Arm pulls the chain that operates the garage door. It starts closing painfully slowly, until Buff Frog kicks it down. It slams shut right in front of the General, a loud ‘THUD!’ resounding through the stone room with notes of bent metal as an accompaniment to the world’s most terrifying bass track. He’s made a significant dent in the now-crumpled garage door. You have to get out of here.

“BUFF FROG!” You throw him the remote. “GET IN THE CUBE! SPIKE-BALLS, MAN-ARM--”

There’s another _‘WREEEET!’_ of bending metal and Man-Arm disappears under the garage door. No time, you’re out of time! 

“SPIKE-BALLS!”

You don’t have to explain. He grabs you and plows into the thick mass of hair separating the garage from the rest of the house. There’s no time to be upset about it. Funny of childhood trauma feels like nothing when there’s real danger chasing you. Spike-Balls follows the hint of a path your other men made, all the way to the stairs before he collides with Giraffe.

“NO TIME! RUN! UP THE STAIRS! GET THE WAND!”

 

\----------

 

Be Yvgeny Bugolyubov, the Buff Frog. Regret the decisions that got you where you are, as General Toffee forces the heavy garage door up with one bloody hand and all that stand between you and him is a clear cube you’re not confident will protect you.

“ _Ludo,_ ” The General snarls. “I warned you, you _fucking imbecile._ ”

He stalks up to the wall of the cube. At least is on two legs again, not four. You will probably be having nightmares about this. If you survive. Big if at this point. Was bad plan, you knew plan was bad. Why did you agree to this? _Pizdec._ This is _pizdec_. Everything is fucked. You’re fucked in particular. Ludo left you here. Alone. With only the cube.

“Yvgeny.”

Your name in his mouth sends shiver up your spine. Now the Star girl is standing, walking to edge of cube and putting a hand on the side. “Hi, Papa.”

“Are you alright?”

“Mmhm. I think they were going to pretend to torture me, but I ruined that part of the plan. Buff Frog is supposed to be threatening you right now to buy time.”

General Toffee...laughs. “Is he? Now, Yvgeny, you know better than that-- _don’t you?_ ”

There are a few quick calculations that you make before you open the door to the cube and offer General Toffee the remote. He is right. You know better, even if your boss doesn’t. Know better than to get between parent and child, to risk life for wand when there are other wands to take and only one life for you. For Ludo. For friends and comrades.

You know better.

The General picks his daughter up in a hug.

“Good man. Go,” he tells you. “Warn Ludo. I should hate to kill someone in Angie’s house.”

 

\----------

 

Be Ludo.

Fear drives you and your men up the stairs way faster than you would have gone otherwise. All of you know the wand is your last defense. If you can’t get to it before General Toffee, then you’re all dead. Buff Frog...might have been right. Maybe a smidge more informed than you on this very, very specific thing. The teensiest hint of correct. That’s what he was. 

From the stairs it’s much quicker going than it was up to that point. For some reason, the upstairs part of the house is much less packed with coarse, scratchy, awful hair you’re trying not to think of even as Spike-Balls does his best not to let any of it touch you. You don't have any idea why until you find the open door to the bathroom and the living, breathing, yelling mass of hair inside that must be the human boy. 

Right. Star said is was a magic mistake--not a mistake you would make if you had magic, of course--that filled the house with hair. All this horrible, itchy, terrible mess is coming from the muffled human in front of you. You try to slam the door, then Spike-Balls tries, but all he does it break the door off its hinges. It falls flat in the doorway, your last line of defense. Buff Frog comes running over it seconds later.

“Boss! We go, now!” 

There’s no time to argue with him. You have to get the wand, you--

Star herself comes flying through the door with a shout, kicks Emmitt in the face and catches Beardeer with her tail. The latter falls down bleeding, sores she cursed him with so many battles ago cracking from the whip-like impact. Emmitt goes flying through the glass shower door with a deafening crash and a much quieter groan. 

Giraffe bellows a war cry none of you understand and charges, but she kicks him right in the crouch and he goes down wailing. Spike-Balls swings and misses her, gets his legs swept out from under him. Now you’re on the ground in maybe the one clear patch of tile in the whole room. Trying desperately not to think about what you’re walking on, you start inching towards the mostly-submerged wand in the opposite corner of the room. You duck behind Emmitt’s legs when he drags himself out of the shower to attack her again.

“STOP HER! I’LL GET THE WAND!”

And you’re so close. It’s just a few feet away now. If only you hadn’t shouted and drawn Star’s attention. She sends you flying back towards the door and into the plaster next to it. You feel your bones grind and creak with the impact, dazed. For all the fights you’ve gotten into, this one is...different. This is wrong. She’s never hit you before. 

That train of thought comes screeching painfully off the tracks when her father slinks into the room. Too dazed to speak, to warn your distracted men over the sounds of battle, you watch in horror as he advances behind an unaware Emmitt. The Star girl hesitates for a split second and one of Emmitt’s clumsy punches connects with her stomach. She goes flying towards the trapped human with an _‘oof’_ of someone who’s had the air knocked out of them. 

Your dizzy brain can’t track exactly the series of blows that put Emmitt on the ground, face up and shocked. Maybe it’s just one move. You don’t know. But now everything that was happening too fast is happening in slow motion, the General snapping his teeth like he can’t control them anymore. This is it, this is the end, isn’t it? You have to do something.

“Wait!” You heart is thumping in your throat, room spinning around you as you try to stand up. No one is “This isn’t--this is not how the game is played.”

And the General pauses, one foot planted on Emmitt’s chest, his silvery fire-and-metal magic wand pointed at your minion, your boy’s face, the boy you hired out of the slums when he was a kid. You know his whole family. General Toffee raises an eyebrow at you with an expression you can’t name--disbelief with barely-contained fury and...amusement. Cold amusement. He speaks and you stand as tall as you can against the desperate urge to run and leave your men where they are. You can’t run. These are your men. You brought them here. You can’t run.

“A game? How...quaint.” He cocks his head to the side, dramatic and curious while he fixes you with a look that makes you feel like a pinned insect in a glass case. “Do you think my daughter’s safety is a game, Ludo?”

“No, I mean,” You’re shaking, or maybe you’re not. It feels like your heart is about to give, to explode in your chest from beating so frantically, and maybe it does. You can’t tell anymore. “It’s a gentleman's war, you know, just a gentleman’s war. I try to take the wand, she stops me. I fail, and she lets me go. If I got the wand, I would let her go. I don’t want to hurt her, it’s not, it’s just...”

Everything slows down. You see Emmitt’s terrified face, the faces of your men reflecting your own horror as Toffee clicks his wand menacingly. All the way across the room, Star covers her hair-ified friend’s eyes. Toffee’s sinister grin splits his face like an open wound, eyes unnaturally bright and burning holes right through you where you stand.

“I see. Our little...talks didn’t teach you anything. It’s time you learned a real lesson, isn’t it? There’s nothing gentlemanly about war, and my hatchling’s life is not a game.” 

He fires off one noisy spell, right between Emmitt’s eyes. Emmitt goes horrifyingly slack, not struggling anymore as General Toffee blows the smoke from his wand and kicks Emmitt away from him. You see blood pooling around his head and the single hole, lifeless eyes, a last look of terror aimed into nothing. General Toffee doesn’t bat an eye.

“Game over, Ludo. I will give you...” He checks his watch thoughtfully. “One minutes’ head start.”

You can’t seem to process his words. “Before what?”

“Before I shoot you, of course. That you live at all is a favor to the crown, and an effort to spare my daughter watching your gruesome death. Be grateful she’s here. One minute and forty-five seconds. Forty-four. Forty-three…And Yvgeny,” He looks away from you for a split second to make eye contact with Buff Frog. “Good to see you. Stay out of this dimension. Forty. _Thirty-nine. Thirty-eight..._ ”

You and your men do the only thing you can do. Someone grabs what’s left of Emmitt, drags a weak and bloody Man-Arm down the driveway, and you all run as fast as you can from the house. 

 

\----------

 

Back at the castle now, you and all your men are sitting in silence. Beardeer and Giraffe took turns digging a grave for Emmitt. A few of your other men got together to make a headstone with his name, even a scratched-in likeness of his face. They’ll have to dig another one soon. Man-Arm hasn’t stopped bleeding. You don’t know what the General did, why there’s so much blood--only that he gets weaker with every minute and you can’t bring yourself to watch it happen up close. 

Instead, you pull Buff Frog aside while your men grieve and try to help their other dying coworker. It’s hard to do this. You don’t want to be angry with him after losing two boys today. Really, you’re happy he’s alive. It’s unexpected, even, since you knew the second General Toffee returned that the cube couldn’t stand against him. What could?

Still, he surrendered. He told you openly that he gave up the cube remote without a fight. If you weren’t so torn up, you would have lost your temper then and there. He was scared. You were scared. You’re reminding yourself to take deep breaths while he follows you into your study full of books. Everyone was scared. None of you were ready for that level of escalation, but that’s...that’s okay. This was the first real fight. 

Now that you’re back in the relative safety of your castle, you’re feeling a little insulted. Sure, the General is a good fighter. He just doesn’t play nice! Everything about the man is rude. None of you have magic fire-and-metal wands, that’s true, but where does he get off dismissing you like that? Like you’re a child up past bedtime, getting two extra minutes to get back in bed before he takes away your outside privileges. Who does he think he is?!

That’s not the point right now, is it? There will be time for more plans later. More serious plans than you’ve ever made. You climb up into you chair full of pillows with all the dignity you can muster. Right now, you need to talk to Buff Frog. This is serious. You take a deep breath.

“...Tell me what happened.” It’s a good place to start, in your opinion. “Are you hurt?”

“No. I refuse to fight General Toffee. No more. Never again.”

“Did he threaten you? He threatened me too, but you saw--”

“Saw him consider making good on threat? Saw him look to daughter, only reason he did not kill rest of us, and make decision to be merciful for her? Not to murder us before her eyes? Yes. I saw this. Did you, Ludo?”

Your feathers are all bristling, fluffing up with anger. “That’s not what I saw at all!”

“Not looking, then. Unlike you, I listen when General speaks. Have spoken to him, not in battle. Not in threatening house call.”

“You, you talked to him?!” Now your feathers are practically standing on end. No one takes you seriously like this. Take a deep breath, force your magnificent plumage to lay back down like it’s supposed to. “You...talked to him. Why?”

“ _Da._ Once, only once. We had short deal. He gives me gold, I show him where to buy medicine for sick daughter. No more.”

“That’s, that’s treason! Why didn’t you tell me?!”

“Is not treason, but survival. At least Toffee pays for food with his gold. Where do you think we find money, to fill grain stores? You think I find hundred gold laying in cave, in sack? Is not from fighting little girl, that is obvious. I am finished.” Buff Frog tells you, more serious than you’ve ever seen him. What does he mean, he’s done?! This is just the beginning! 

You’re going to give him a serious talking to, you are. He’s always been the most capable of your men. When there’s trouble, he tells you. He’s your eyes and ears. If he thinks that means you’ll go easy on him, then he should think again! He’ll never drink another milkshake again!

“You--!”

He cuts you off immediately. “Save this speech. Is big mistake to be involved, and Emmitt pays for your greed. I tell you, over and over, ‘do not play with Toffee.’ To real General, is not game--is threat, and threats are to be dealt with. We are like colony of termites to him.”

“...What are you saying, Buff Frog?”

“Is not my name! Even now, I tell you I am finished, done, _s menya khvatit_ and you cannot even remember name! We are nothing, Ludo. We make him agree to nothing, we do not scare him. Now a good monster is dead, and you still see only wands and power! Is not why I came here, and is not why I will stay. I will not stay if you are to be fighting General Toffee again. Is dangerous. What they call… _‘zero sum game,’ da_? We only lose.”

“If we back down now, he’ll never learn to fear us!”

Buff Frog laughs, low and croaking in his throat. “You still do not see, even now! General Toffee does not fear loveable band of misfits. Is not an army. Even Queen Moon comes to say, ‘do not bother Toffee.’ He is not like you, Ludo! What is not to understand?!”

“Why isn’t he like us? He’s a monster too!”

“He is real monster, not little boy monsters in big stolen castle. A real monster plays for keeps; highest stakes and even to his death. Seems very obvious, you cannot kill what cannot die. He waits twenty, thirty years, and we are dead already. Toffee never raises hand against us. You cannot win long game with man who cannot die.”

“Yeah? Well--well I think I can!”

“You think wrong. Is all big _besporyadok, pizdec,_ big _fucking_ mess! Now we bury Emmitt, and you see nothing wrong? I say to that, _voyti v zadnitsu!_ Go into an ass! Do not take good men with you!”

“...You swore an oath, Buff Frog. I am your general!”

“And I say dick to your oaths! You swear also, swear to protect monsters like Emmitt. Now you fight bigger, stronger monster than you, real monster, and you call this to protect? Bah! I am leaving. Is not right, Ludo. You know this. Is not right. Do not send comrades after me.”

“Wait, Buff Frog--” But he’s already walking away. “Fine! You’re FIRED!”

He gives you a one-finger salute over his shoulder and doesn’t look back. Toffee is going to pay for this if it’s the last thing you do. This is all his fault.

 

\----------

 

Be Marco, shaken to the bone.

Mr. Toffee killed someone today. Part of you knew it would happen, if Ludo didn’t back off. You couldn’t see everything. The dead monster hit Star, and it was the last mistake he ever made. You recognize him. Ms. Skullnick had a crush on him. He was one of the regulars. How many times did you and Star fight him? 

That’s really the problem. He fought with you, and now he’s dead. It feels like your fault. If you fought harder, if you took it more seriously, if you stopped Mr. Toffee from being involved then that monster would still be alive. He probably had a family. Maybe even another girlfriend. He had a whole life, and now he has nothing. He’s dead.

You can’t look at Mr. Toffee. It wasn’t that serious, you want to shout. It wasn’t worth this! Not worth a life. Ludo’s men aren’t dangerous. They’ve never actually hurt you, and you’re a squishy human kid. There’s no way he really hurt Star--Star, your best friend, the girl who covered your eyes so you wouldn’t see the killing shot. Even you know it takes a lot more than a glancing punch to even bruise her. That guy didn’t have to die. She must be torn up about it, too.

Or she isn’t. She runs to her dad as soon as Ludo is gone and hugs him. They’re probably standing in a puddle of blood. Just the thought makes you nauseous. Star doesn’t even flinch. It’s like nothing big even happened. This might as well be the end to another normal day of play-fighting. She dressed up as Ludo for Halloween. Surely she knows how bad this is. How much that random guy didn’t deserve this.

But again, she looks fine. She gives off a quick counter-spell to stop your beard from growing any more than it already has and uses a pair of hedge clippers from your dad’s shed to cut you free, talking about walking to the McGas-station (damn it, she got you saying it too) for fries until first period is over, so you don’t have to go in late. That’s it.

She vanishes the blood like she vanishes the hair, even if you swear you see her get a little bit of it into one of the glass vials she ordered online for potion-making. A little bit of magic hair gets tied up with twine and put away in her study with the blood. That’s really all the response you get from her about the whole thing. When you walk to class still halfway into a five-alarm panic attack, she’s still skipping down the sidewalk. Just like any other girl you know. 

 

\----------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for kudos/comments! This chapter is a little later than I usually aim for, sorry about that, it needed some last minute touches. Let me know what you guys think of the action scenes in the comments--I worry it's falling flat in some places, would love some feedback to improve future action scenes. You guys have all been so great, and you're a smart group of people who definitely learn their lesson the first time instead of the third. Bonus points to anyone who knows what the 'Angry Grape' movie is.


	14. Chapter Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco's got PTSD. Star's got a boyfriend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! This chapter is a little short, sorry about that. I promise the next one will make up for it.

Be Marco.

You have the weirdest feeling that you're living the same day over and over again.

It isn't that nothing changes. Your days vary, from different schooldays having different classes down to what you eat, what you say, what you think about. Time isn't literally looped. You're just stuck. Every day follows the same pattern it did before Star came to live in the spare bedroom. You get up, get dressed, go to school, come home, do homework, and go to bed. Get up, get dressed, go to school, come home, do homework, and go to bed. Up, dressed, school, home, homework, bed.

It's worth mentioning that your life wasn’t always that boring, exactly. You used to do things like play games, and read books when you weren’t at the dojo. You still go to karate now, but you swear it's been the same lesson twice. Two weeks after the fateful fight with Ludo, you're sitting at your desk staring blankly at your algebra, unable to remember what your lesson even was this week. Or last week. All class leaves you with is the vague feeling you’ve learned whatever it is before and nothing about the actual lesson. Someone might as well have snipped that part of your memory out of your head 

Did Star do something to time on accident? You've sat next to her while she studies the Royal Book of Spells. There are a couple in there that sounded relevant to this crippling sense of deja vu. Freezing time and unfreezing time. What to do if you delete a dimension. Patchwork spells to fix the time continuum if you screw it up with time travel. But she’s not that advanced.

Maybe it’s not magic at all, but you kind of hope it is. That’s easier than knowing it isn’t. If it’s not magic, then it’s you and there’s no counter spell for being fucked up in the head, as far as you know, just suffering. That’s something you could ask Star about. Spells to unfuck your head.

Lately even the most normal parts of your day feel empty and wrong. It’s the little things that remind you how different you feel. A lunch period like any other one is happening around you, and you’re just along for the ride. 

You’re outside with your growing group of friends, like usual. It used to be you either ate lunch with Ferguson and Alfonzo, or you scarfed it down before running off to the computer lab for the rest of lunch. Now there’s usually five or six people at the table, enough people to actually claim your own table just outside the cafeteria. It’s always you, Star, the guys, Janna, and 13. Sometimes Ingrid comes with Janna, and sometimes she doesn’t. Now Oskar leaves his car during lunch to sit there too. It’s a lot more people than you’re used to eating with after middle school and the end of big, long lunch tables everyone had to share.

Today you get to the cafeteria early enough to get in and out of the lunch line fast. Star claims the table with her lunchbox and backpack before she goes after soda and juice from the vending machine in the corner, and her stuff more or less summons Oskar from his awful noise-making at his car and to the lunch table to doze in the sun like an overgrown cat. The guys aren’t far behind you in line, so they’re next to arrive with their trays of technically edible lunch food.

Janna darts out of the lunchline next, and takes up a spot next to 13, across from you. She cuts off the current conversation about something (you weren’t paying attention to it) to beg for homework like she always does. “Anyone do the notes for Humanities? By anyone, I mean Star, 13, or Diaz.”

“I have the notes.” Ferguson says.

“I would rather take notes from Oskar, no offense. Anybody?”

“How is that not offensive?!”

“I’ll give you my notes,” Star says. “If you’ll give me half your potato wedges.”

“Expensive. I can’t believe the inflation these days. These suckers are worth their weight in gold and you know it, Uhlayiss. But I appreciate your ambition. We’re not that desperate yet, and you’re not that cute. 13?”

She doesn’t look up from her charm-crowded, fluffy-cased phone. “You can have my notes if you give Star half your potato wedges, and take back what you said about her not being cute.” 

“Merciless. I didn’t say she wasn’t cute. That would be a lie. Hey, Diaz?”

You shrug. That’s all the response you have energy for. Last night involved about 5% sleeping and 95% laying in bed wondering why you can’t go to sleep. Even shrugging at her involves more energy than you have right now. Come on, Marco. Just eat your lunch. She’s lucky you were even tuned in enough to answer her at all.

“Ugh.” Janna takes a bite of one coveted potato wedge. “Still moping, huh? You leave me no choice. Greason?”

Oskar is still fast asleep on Star’s other side. He’s hugging her arm like a stuffed animal, snoring quietly face-down on the wire table. That can’t be comfortable, you think, in the same second your tired brain groans _‘god, I wish that were me’_ with every ounce of your remaining brain power. It’s not fair. Oskar is always asleep. You want to sleep. God, you wish that was you.

“Greason. Hey, Greason! Greaseball!” Janna balls up her napkin and chucks it at him, only for Star to grab it out of mid-air with her free hand. “Nice catch.”

“Not on my watch, Ordonia. Half your wedges for notes, and let him sleep.”

“...Half my wedges for notes, and a bite of whatever Mr. Mom packed you for lunch today. I’ll throw in letting dumpster boy sleep as a show of goodwill.”

“Sold.”

They trade notes for potato wedges and a bite of leftover pasta. It was pretty good, if you remember it right. Star takes her napkin full of ill-gotten wedges, pokes Oskar until he sits up, and wordlessly directs him to the food.

“Oh, sweet. Thanks.”

“Mmhm.” She pats his cheek absently with a clawed hand before turning her attention back to whatever Ferguson and Alfonzo are arguing about. Something about a comic book? You don’t know. 

You end up laying your head down on the table after you’ve got as much lunch down as possible and dealt with your tray. Star pushed your usual soda your way without a word and you down half of it in one go. Ack, the carbonation burns. You’ve just gotta make it through the day. 

“They should serve coffee in the cafeteria,” you grumble as you lay down again. “I’m so tired.”

Still exhausted and waiting for the caffeine to kick in, you lay your head back down. Facing Star, you let her pat your cheek with a quiet ‘sleepy Marco’ while she reads her book on the table. You end up staring through her arms, past Oskar and into nothing until the bell rings and everyone has to go back to class--well, except Oskar, who the teacher have pretty much given up on. Lucky.

You’re just gathering up your bag and your soda when a shadow falls over you. It’s ominous for a second, until you look up and see harmless little 13 sitting on the table with her fluffy phone and painted face-hearts.

“I know your pain.” Starfan13 whispers. Right, that’s not creepy. You’re too tired for this, but you’re too tired to deal with this any way but just walking away. It’s only when you try to move past her that she grabs your arm and makes this serious. “It’s not fair. Oskar doesn’t deserve Star, not like you do. He’s an idiot.”

God, really? Isn’t this just exactly what you need. People already guess at your feelings towards Star enough as it is. Something about that damn manic pixie dream-girl trend just makes Star look irresistible to some people. It’s not that glamorous, you want to tell them. Wherever this new face of 13 thinking you like your best friend is coming from, you need to shut it down. Fast. The last thing you need is a full-fledged rumor that you have a crush on Star. 

“And you’re a creep,” You retort. “But you’re her friend. Deserving her has nothing to do with it, and I’m not jealous. She’s my best friend, and that’s it.”

“But she could be more!”

“Gross, 13. She’s like my little sister.” Which is true. You’re not sure how people think you have a crush on her when you’ve taught her pretty much everything she knows about Earth culture; and when Jackie Lynn Thomas, the permanent love of your young life, is two just tables over and existing in a state of cool, calm, and complete perfection. “Would you date your little sister?”

“If my little sister was Star--”

“Okay, gross.” Gross doesn’t even cover it. “I’m going to leave now.”

“But Marco! You and Star would be the cutest--”

“Bye, 13. We’re not talking about this.” You catch Jackie’s eye as you walk past her table towards the door to the hall and manage a smile before you crash right into the doorframe. So much for soda helping you. God, you wish you were sleeping right now.

 

\----------

 

It’s not like you don’t know how brains work. At the two-week mark you decide something is definitely wrong, and turn to your psychology textbook for answers. You find something that might fit, look up an online copy of the DSM 5, and scroll through the pdf until you find it. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. PTSD, for short. 

You’ve got the symptoms. Intrusive and upsetting memories of what happened, avoiding places that remind you of the traumatic event, and trouble sleeping all persist. It’s a pretty solid diagnosis, but the DSM says it has to persist for at least a month before it’s official. You’ll just have to wait and see.

What’s the point of knowing, though? It’s not like you can go see a therapist and talk about it. Mr. Toffee’s not from around here, but you think aliens committing murder is still committing murder. There’s doctor-patient confidentiality, but hearing about murder or other illegal things means the doctor can tell someone about it. 

If you talk about it, human police might try to arrest him. That would end so bad. Besides, it’s not like he’s just walking around murdering people. Aside from the occasional dark humor, he’s just...a normal guy. He’s always been a normal guy, status as a lizard person aside.

There’s no sign of Ludo anywhere since the fight. Big surprise. You’re pretty sure the casual brawls after school are over. With that over and done with, nothing seems to faze Mr. Toffee at all. He even handles Star telling him about Oskar pretty well. 

You were half sure Oskar would just disappear, because apparently shooting one guy (who hit his daughter) makes him some kind of mafiosa now. Great job, Marco. You’re not jumping the gun at all. Ha. That phrase isn’t funny anymore.

Oskar drives to the house in his deathtrap car to pick up Star for a sort-of hangout/date. That was about when you thought sparks would fly (and started picturing Oskar on your bathroom floor with a hole in his head, Mr. Toffee standing over him), but it’s the opposite. If he was bothered by Star liking boys now, he’s apparently just fine with dumb, noodle-y, harmless Oskar Greason. You catch the end of your mom teasing him as they pull out of the driveway.

“And here I thought you’d buy a rifle to clean for the occasion.” She says. Yikes. The last thing Mr. Toffee needs is a bigger gun. Anyone can quote you on that.

“There’s no need, my dear. Star can sort him out for herself. I’ve seen cooked spaghetti thicker than his arms.” He doesn’t look up from making dinner. “Pardon my language, but my daughter could kick his ass.”

It’s not like he’s wrong, but something about that still puts you off. Star wouldn’t hurt Oskar for being an idiot. If that was where she stood on his behavior, he would already be dead. She wouldn’t be sitting on the hood of his car making up dumb lyrics for his awful keyboard shredding. 

Maybe that’s what Mr. Toffee would do (killing him, that is, not making up songs to go with his ear-splitting tunes), but that’s not Star. Star’s not nearly as much like her dad as he thinks. Or hey, maybe you’re wrong. But this line of thought helps you find a sticking place for your courage. Star isn’t terrifying, and you don’t think she’s okay with murder either. She’s just good at hiding it. You really should talk to her.

 

\----------

 

It takes a while to get some courage together and approach Star about what’s bothering you. You’d feel like a coward, but honestly? Being scared is pretty reasonable here, in your opinion. Another week passes and you say nothing. 

Now it’s been three weeks from That Day. Three and a half. Four? A month. You officially have PTSD. That’s a fun thing to think about during the day, since there’s nothing you can do about it without telling someone outside your family or talking to Star about what happened. 

You still haven’t talked to your parents about it. Every time you try, something keeps your from dumping everything out. It’s not like they’ll understand. Part of you is even kind of scared to bring it up. The last time you tried to bring it up to your mom, Mr. Toffee shut you up with a look. He doesn’t want you to tell them, and you don’t know why. 

Maybe you know why. It would really blow his cover with your mom and dad. They’re all friends, and bringing that up might change things--so he doesn’t want you to say anything. It feels wrong, but you keep your mouth shut. Who knows what your parents would do, if they knew their quiet, polite housemate murdered someone upstairs? You don’t even want to find out.

Since you can’t talk to your parents and Mr. Toffee makes you feel like your whole body is made out of ice and incapable of talking, you’re going to have to talk to Star. She was there, she was in the exact same place you were. It might even be bothering her as much as it bothers you. She’s probably better at keeping a straight face than you are. Plus she did grow up in a dungeon. That probably wasn’t the first time she’s seen someone die. 

Maybe she can help you. Even though she doesn’t have an A in Psychology, she could probably talk you down. Star is nothing if not reasonable, most of the time. Sharing how you feel will definitely help. That’s what your textbook and all the websites you’ve read say. It could even make her feel better too.

When you finally work up the nerve to say something, you find Star is laying on the floor in the corner of the kitchen. She’s holding her wand to her chest while she practices bouncing a rubber ball she won from an arcade game with magic. 

You’re still not sleeping well, even though it’s been a month and another week at this point. Exhausted and done with your homework, you go and lay next to her before you even say hi. 

“Hey, Star?” You’re talking quietly, even though there’s no one in the house. Your parents and her dad all had somewhere to be tonight.

“Mmhm?”

“Are you feeling okay?

“Uh-huh. Just practicing,” She gestures very carefully to the bouncing ball so as not to interrupt it. “And the floor is comfy.”

“Oh. Right. Well...”

“What are you thinking about?” Her eyes never leave the bouncy ball. Up and down, up and down, like it’s bouncing between two surfaces instead of one when it hits the midpoint between the ceiling and floor.

“I just...well, you know. Worry.”

“Uh-huh. About anything specific?” 

“We haven’t seen Ludo in a while.” That’s the most subtle way you can think of to bring up what’s bothering you. “Do you think he’s…”

“Okay?” She finishes. With a sigh, she snatches the bouncy ball out of the air before sitting up and facing you. “He shouldn’t be. We probably won’t see him again, though, so don’t worry about it. He knew what he was getting into.”

“...But did he, though?” Because the more you think about it, the more you don't think he did. 

Ludo doesn't have what you would call ‘foresight’ or ‘linear thinking.’ It's like he’s got a mental wall between what he does and the consequences of what he does. You have a hard time believing he thought things through enough to guess what would happen when he came to the house. Then again, it doesn't take a genius to guess. The more you think about him, the worse you feel. What if he didn’t even know what he was getting into?

Star shrugs. “I don’t see how he couldn’t. Come on, what would you do if a real, actual military person from Earth told you to back off? He even served under my dad during the war I told you about. Ludo learned his lesson, he won’t come back. You don’t have to worry about that.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about at all, Star. I’m worried about your dad killing people.”

“...Huh, okay.” She tilts her head curiously at you, too similar to her dad and putting you off in a way you know isn’t fair. It’s not like Star has any more experience with this than you. And she didn’t tell her dad to kill anyone--he actually spared Ludo for her. Or so he said. “I don’t really understand. What’s wrong?”

“He killed a guy in our bathroom. What’s not wrong with that?”

“Ludo was gonna torture me in the garage. Or pretend to torture me, I don’t really know, but even pretending to torture a little girl is pretty messed up.”

“Oh.”

“That’s right! You weren’t there for that part, sorry. He had this glass cube thing, kind of like a portable jail cell. I think the plan was to steal the wand before my dad got back from his run, but they messed up and forgot to take my mirror.” 

The colorful ball starts bouncing again in her hand while she talks. You can’t remember if it was this colorful when she got it, or if that’s a spell too.

“The back-up plan was to either torture me in the unbreakable cube or just threaten to if my dad got back and tried to stop them from getting the wand. If they stood their ground then we would have called their bluff, but Ludo freaked out and ran. Buff Frog--er, Yvgeny--just let me out.”

“I, yeah, I didn’t know that part.” But it makes more sense this way, and it makes you feel a little less sick. You should have started this conversation earlier. “Do you think they would have…?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. Then my dad probably would have killed all of them, used the cube like a trash compactor-thing for corpses, and dumped it back on Ludo’s doorstep for somebody in the castle to find.”

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph _that’s not better._ So much for being reassuring! If this is supposed to be reassuring (which Star might actually think it is) then color you extremely unsure what to do with this. You’re barely listening as she continues.

“So just killing one guy isn’t bad at all. Ludo got off lucky, and now he’s leaving us alone. That’s really what that was about, you know? People can’t just bother us. If he keeps poking around he’ll figure out who I am eventually. So one guy eats lead, and everybody else lives. Happy ending!”

“Not for the dead guy, though.”

It hurts you to say ‘dead guy’ out loud, but you can’t actually get said guy’s name out without wanting to throw up so that’s what you’re working with. 

In perfect contrast, Star doesn’t even look a little upset about it. She shrugs, still bouncing her ball. “Who cares? He’s dead. What’s he going to do, complain about it?”

“...You know what, I have to go somewhere.” Oh god, you have to go somewhere. Anywhere. Anywhere else is good right now, somewhere your best friend isn’t looking at you like you’re not understanding a math problem because you’re hung up on this. “I, uh--”

“Okay.” She frowns. “Marco?”

“It’s fine, I’ll be fine, just, you know, it’s an Earth thing.”

“Did I upset you?”

“...A little but, but it’s not your fault, okay?” You do your best to look as not-freaked out as possible. “It’s just not what I’m used to, but it makes sense that it doesn’t upset you as much as it upsets me. Maybe we could talk about it more, if you aren't busy?”

“I’m never too busy for you, Marco! But, uh, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m,” You take a deep breath and will the room to stop spinning around you. “I'm good. Cool as a cucumber. Did you ever talk to your dad about what happened last month?”

“For sure. I talk to my dad about everything.”

That’s something, right? “What did your dad tell you, when you talked to him about it?”

“What do you mean?”

“What did your dad tell you? What did he say about killing that guy?”

“...That it’s not great, I guess, but better than the alternative. That wasn’t really what we talked about it. It was mostly just comforting me, you know, dad stuff. Mom stuff? I don’t know. Parent stuff.”

“Like what?”

“You know, stuff like reminding me he’d never let Ludo actually hurt me. I think I did pretty good playing cool but, you know, it was pretty scary. I’m always worried about stuff like that happening when my dad isn’t around. Kind of dumb, right?”

“No,” You’re fiddling with your hoodie strings now. “It’s not dumb.”

Geez, you had no idea this happened. It makes angsting around like an asshole for the last couple weeks seem pretty stupid. Speaking of being an asshole, Star looks really, really nervous now. Great job, Diaz.

“I know I’m supposed to be a teenager and all,” She continues, not looking at you. “But sometimes you just gotta cry on your dad about things that scared you. That’s mostly what the talking about it was.”

“So it’s...different for you.” Which you really should have guessed. “It’s a different kind of upset.”

“Yeah. Can I ask you a question?”

“...Sure.”

“So I know I’m still not great at reading people, and I might be wrong, but you’ve been really...tired lately, and I’m worried about you. Are you okay, Marco?”

“Yeah. I’m fine.” That’s such a lie. You’re not fine, and when Star stops what she’s doing, lets the bouncy ball escape and roll harmlessly into the hall, you know she knows that too. At least she doesn’t say anything--or maybe you’re disappointed that she didn’t say anything. Maybe that’s what you wanted. 

But maybe not. And anyway, it’s not fair to bother Star about it if she’s doing okay right now. If there’s anything you know for sure, it’s that she deserves to be doing okay more than anybody else you know. Even yourself. It’s not fair to bring it up and make her less okay just because you’re upset.

You’ll just have to deal with it alone. There’s not really another option.

 

\----------

 

Another week passes after that conversation. You feel as shitty as you always do. It’s been a month and a half and you still feel like tired, irritable garbage. You still haven’t worked up the courage to say something else about it to anyone, especially not Star, but you should. Going it alone isn’t going to work out. Your parents are going on a weekend retreat until Monday, and Mr. Toffee is in charge.

They’re so excited, you don’t have the nerve to mention how bad you don’t want him to be the only adult in the house. Even if you’re not as upset as you used to be. 

Maybe you’ll...go stay with Ferguson for the weekend, even if you’re starting to get really annoyed with him. It’s just been awhile since you hung out with anybody. Star is busy with her magic lessons anyways. According to her, she’s getting pretty good at nonverbal incantations--not that you know why it matters. Most of the time she uses that knowledge to cast subtle spells during school. All that gives her away is her arm elbow-deep in her bag.

It takes a lot, but you’ve building up as much courage as you can since you talked to Star about...this. When you go to her room, your best friend is submersed in one of Erstwhile’s handwritten (telekinetically handwritten? brainwritten?) lesson books for Abjuration spells. She’s not in her study, but reading it upside-down in her bed with the book floating in front of her. At least you won’t have to knock on the study door.

“You’re getting really good at that.” You tell her, both incredibly nervous and impressed that she can study and hold the spell at the same time. It used to be that talking to her while she was trying to levitate things resulted in whatever she was focusing on falling or sailing away at top speed in a random direction. 

“Thanks. I like transmutation spells. Did you know levitation is technically transmutation?”

“Huh. I guess you transmute the object’s location.”

“Something like that. Check this out, though.” She produces a little swirl of gold wire from one of her dress pockets. It’s bent into a cup-ish shape with a thin handle on one side, small enough to easily fit in her palm. “It’s a material component! If I have this, I can cast the spell without my wand. Neat, right?”

“Yeah, super neat. Why a cup?”

“I don’t remember. It just works, I guess? I probably wrote it down in my notes, but that was ages ago. Like...more than a month. Guess I should look those over, huh? Glossaryck says I should remember why these things work if I want to really understand my lessons. You can read it, though--the easy book of Transmutation spells is in my closet. It’s written in a pidgeon kind of English-Septira Standard, though. I could read it to you? My translations are pretty good.”

You’re definitely curious, but second-hand magic lessons will have to wait. If you take her up on it, you know you’ll lose your nerve. It feels like you can either talk about it now or never. “Maybe later. Where’s your dad?”

“Downstairs. What’s up?”

“Nothing. I was just thinking about what you said. About, uh, talking to him. You know. About what happened.”

“Go ahead. I don’t think he’s doing anything right now other than, you know, reading. But he’s always reading. Go nuts.”

So it’s like this. You go downstairs to the door of Mr. Toffee’s study. Now is a good time to talk about this, right? It’s been a while. Everything has died down. You’re just...being fragile. Star is right, you should talk to him. Maybe he doesn’t know how Star feels about this. 

Or maybe he does, and he feels exactly the same. Maybe you’re the only one who’s upset about this, and you’re being weird. Mr. Toffee was a general of an entire army. It’s not like he’s never killed anybody before, or never seen it happen. Star told you once that he’s been in the military for his whole life. But that means he knows how to handle it when someone is freaked out about it, doesn’t he?

Doesn’t he?

In the end, you can’t even work up the courage to knock. 

 

\----------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to everyone leaving comments/kudos! Y'all are great.
> 
> I've been thinking about making a discord for this story, somewhere I can post my (terrible) art of my main lizard girl and talk a bit about lore I have planned out and can't fit into the actual story. We can chat about whatever y'all like. Let me know!
> 
> Once again, sorry about the short chapter. Hopefully it's not too wangsty. Might add some art to beef this one up a little bit, I'll let people know if I do. See you in two days!


	15. Chapter Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Marco vents, Star disobeys, and disaster ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go!! Last chapter in part one!!! I've been so excited about this for weeks now, hope you all enjoy!!!!

Be Star, still reeling from talking with your best friend.

It happens like this. Marco comes in the first time to ask if your dad is busy. No, probably not, so you sent him downstairs to talk in the hopes it will help. Whatever anyone else says about your dad, he’s loads better with words than you or anybody else, really. Things are going to be fine. Your dad can fix anything.

So you’re here just minding your own business, when Marco comes back upstairs five minutes or so later and practically dripping sweat. Gross. 

“Did you talk to him?” You asked, already pretty sure the answer was ‘no.’ 

“Actually.” Marco closes your door behind him. “I changed my mind. So no. We need really to talk. Please.”

 

“Oh, uh, I’m kinda--”

“Now. Please,” he adds, like that changes the fact he’s interrupting what you’re doing. Normally you’d be annoyed, since you gave him a perfectly good idea that will definitely work better than this, but he does look really upset. That’s a lot of sweat.

“...Okay, sure. I can take a break.” You let the book drift over to sit next to you on the bed before you sit up. “What’s up?”

“I want to talk about the guy who died in our bathroom, Star, and I’m really, really hoping we can talk about it, because I’m not okay with it and I don’t know what to do.”

“I thought we talked about this already.” 

“It didn’t help, okay? And I’m sorry, I can’t...well, no, I’m not sorry, because I can’t talk to your dad because he killed a guy and every time I close my eyes I see it happen again. And again. And again. I know you didn’t grow up like a normal kid, but most people aren’t okay with murder like that. It’s not healthy and I think you knew that before we talked about it.”

“Uh, no.” You her arms. “I didn’t know that, and I still don’t.”

“So it’s fine with you, then?”

“I don’t want to talk about this.”

Well tough luck for you, because he obviously wants to talk about it. He might even think he needs to talk about it, like he’s got to worry about you knowing human ideas of right and wrong. It’s not that you don’t understand how sensitive ordinary people can be about death. Papa warned you before that Marco would have a different perspective on this, because Marco is a civilian. He’s never seen death and he doesn’t understand it.

You open your mouth to tell him exactly that, but he cuts you off.

“One question. Do you think killing people is okay?”

That’s a doozy, but you know how to deal with provocative questions. Still, you sigh as you put your book down and right yourself. It will be best if you give this your full attention. Marco is shaking where he stands as he waits for your response.

“...You should sit down.” You gesture to the space beside you. “It looks like your legs are giving.”

“I don’t want to sit down. Answer the question.”

It’s petty, but you’re a little insulted. “Learn to ask better questions. What kind of people, Marco?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It rather does. Do I think killing ordinary, innocent people is wrong? Yes, I do.” 

“Do you think the monster your dad killed was evil?”

“A bit, maybe, but that’s not why he’s dead. Decent people can die too.”

“What if he was a really, really good person?”

“Then he was still committing treason. My dad did what he’s supposed to do if people attack me--as a parent, and as a bodyguard. He even spared most of Ludo’s crew. We both know he didn’t have to do that, right?”

“...Would he really kill them all?” Marco’s only shaking more now. “Could he?”

“Of course he could. Six guys is nothing for him, he used to kill companies--a hundred men, sometimes more, in just a night.”

Marco can’t seem to look at you, but that’s alright. You’ll look out the window. Maybe he’ll do the same. You’ve gotten very good with illusions in your little pocket dimension, the windows all portray a jungle from some distant Earth island that you saw once on the television. It’s always soothing for you.

“It was war. They didn’t make him a general for his scary name, did they? He’s really, really good at killing people. Aren’t Earth soldiers like that? He used to tell me stories of it.” You start to fidget a little, swinging your legs as you go on. “Sometimes he would leave one or two alive just to report back.”

“Oh.”

“I’ve been doing some research, and I think the Monster Wars were most like America’s Vietnam War. It did have a real reason, though.”

“What was the reason?” He asks, barely audible.

“It was different for every monster nation, and sometimes from general to general. My father wanted to restore the colonies that Mewmanity displaced, and…” Without your permission, your voice lowers a bit. “...Revenge, for what happened to our family.”

“Did he get revenge?”

“I don’t know. He says he has me now, and that’s all that matters.” You’re still getting quieter as you continue. “It’s just a thing we have to do sometimes. I know it’s hard to deal with.” 

Marco nods. “Is it hard for you too?”

“Of course it is, but I can't let it be. I have to be a Queen one day.”

“Maybe some Queens don't like killing people.”

“Maybe.” You allow, though you rather doubt it. 

So far it seems like being royal is all about killing, but hey. Who are you to say? It could all be a big coincidence. Being young is a handicap when it comes to memory, but it looks to you like every bit of murder in your family comes from royalty and the risks. Your grandmother was probably murdered by Queen Solaria the Butcher herself, and it goes down from there on both sides. It's murder all the way down. You know well enough that the Queen should have killed you when it would still be easy. Your dad always thought she would adopt a child to take the throne. Maybe the current Queen didn't kill you, but is expected to live in a dungeon until she dies any better?

None of this makes it past your lips. Instead, you ignore his sweaty grossness to lean against Marco’s shoulder. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Yeah,” he admits. “Please. I need help.”

 

\----------

 

Be Ludo.

So Toffee thinks he’s won, does he?

In a way, he has. No amount of plotting or scheming, no matter how well-done, will bring Emmitt or Man-Arm back to life. No amount of grovelling (how ever sincere you are) or gifts will bring Buff Frog back to the castle as long as you’re looking for revenge. You found him tadpoles, tadpoles! All he did was thank you, and then assure you his new babies weren’t coming anywhere near your grudge match before he disappeared again.

Well, that’s just fine. It’s not, you think in the same second, but it TOTALLY IS! If Buff Frog wants to be a BIG COWARD then that’s HIS FAULT!

You’re not mad. Not at all. It’s not like you trusted him with your life, or anything like that.

The rest of your men stayed in the castle. Some of them even want revenge too. This time you know you have to be careful. Grabbing the General’s daughter was a bad idea. You should have taken her offer to race for the wand in the first place. Everything went wrong the second he saw his daughter in a cage. It’s not a mistake you can make again.

This time, you won’t involve General Toffee at all. It's brilliant! You won't lay a finger on Star. Of course not.

You're going to take her best friend!

So brilliant, Ludo! It's a shame the cubical prison was lost to Toffee. You could really use that right now. It could have been a fantastic, dramatic prison. You could have had Marco right in front of you, with all the security of a real cell! Instead you order Giraffe downstairs to check on the bar fortifications. 

It's been a long time since anyone actually stayed in your dungeon as a prisoner. You don't want to flatter yourself (you can't help it if everything you do is flattering) but crime has really gone down since you moved in! Monster on monster crime, that is. You adjust your skull crown with a satisfied smile.

“What do you think of this, Varserys?” You ask it. “Would you be proud of me? I told you it would all come together in the end. You’re the only one who believed it would.”

It's times like this where you wish the skull could speak again, could hear you.

“Soon, my darling. Everything's coming together.” You stroke the side of the skull absently, feel the weight of your scissors keenly in the pocket of your robe. If only Varserys could see what you’re about to accomplish.

“General Ludo!” Beardeer snaps to attention in the doorway. My, these plans really have changed things! Your men haven’t been this respectful in ages! “We’ve finished with the cell. Boofly is ready to go at your order.”

“Send him to me. I want to make sure everything goes perfectly.”

If only General Toffee knew what a mistake this was, to make things so serious. It’s like he thinks you’re an idiot! You know how to play with life or death odds, yes you do, yes you do! But everyone loves to underestimate you.

You can’t wait to see his face when you succeed. Pretend General, indeed!

 

\----------

 

Be Star.

After an hour of talking, you could tell Marco was too tired to continue talking or doing anything else but sleep. You gently suggest he try a nap and (since it's been a while) he’s upstairs in your room, taking your advice.

You’ve got about twenty tabs open on the downstairs computer and they’re all about PTSD. It’s called something different on Mewni, but you suspect humans aren’t the only one who suffer. Marco is right, he can’t talk to a therapist. He can’t talk to anybody about this outside of people who know about Mewni. All your friends at school are cool and know about it, but they can’t really help--after all, they’re just kids and kids shouldn’t even have to know what this is.

There’s this tiny, awful part of you that’s relieved. Now you _and_ Marco are different. You’re still way more noticeable (while wearing your true face, anyway), but there’s...something to be said for not being the only one who’s messed up. 

Marco is messed up because of you, though. So it’s the least you can do to try and help. He told you about Psychology and how humans have professionals to talk each other through things that happen. Therapists. But if your best friend can’t talk to strangers about you and all the crazy things that happen, you’ll just have to learn how to be a therapist for him. After all, there’s nothing you won’t do for your best friend.

“Doing a bit of research?” Papa walks past you, trailing a hand familiarly over your shoulders on his way to the kitchen.

“Mmhm. Marco’s pretty messed up about that dead guy, so I’m going to learn how to fix him.”

“I see. Are you having any luck?”

“We’re pretty sure we know what’s wrong with him. He says that’s half the trouble with brain problems, trying to figure out what’s wrong. Humans call it Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.”

“That sounds familiar.”

“It probably does. Google says it’s really common with soldiers. I don’t know what they call it on Mewni.”

“Oh, dear hatchling. Mewmans don’t call it anything. Their society simply isn’t developed enough for medical terminology.”

“What about in Septarsis?”

“Echoing sickness. A fair few of us suffered from it, I’m afraid, myself included. It can be quite...unpleasant.” He returns to your side with a beer in hand. “What was the human name for it?”

“PTSD, abbreviated.”

“PTSD. Interesting. Do many humans suffer from this?”

“Mostly soldiers, police officers, victims of violent crime...or witnesses,” you add, half-focused on the conversation as you skim another article. “Survivors of natural disasters. Sometimes humans who get surgery react very badly, too. Can we go to the library later?”

“Of course. Are you looking for anything in particular?”

“I need a book about cognitive behavioral therapy.”

“Are you interested in becoming a therapist?”

“Just for Marco, for now.” You frown a little bit. “It’s not like I could really...go to college for it. Unless there’s college on Mewni?”

“It’s very limited. As I said, Mewmans aren’t a well-developed civilization. If you wanted to go to an Earth college, however…”

“I don’t think I’ll have time.”

“We can make time, if it’s something you’d like to pursue. You know education is important. I think there are far less useful things for a princess to study. If human college is something you’re interested in, then you’ll attend human college. I’ll see to it. How is Marco feeling today?”

You lean against his shoulder as you read. “Better, I think.”

“He hasn’t been sleeping.”

“Uh-huh. That’s a symptom. He can’t stay asleep for very long, so he’s taking a nap.”

“I see. And how are you feeling today, Star?”

“I’m okay.” You say, too fast. It isn’t technically a lie, but you still feel kind of guilty about it. Not that your dad buys it for a second. What’s even the point of lying to someone who knows you better than you know yourself? “...Worried, mostly. I’m worried about Marco.”

“I would be more concerned if you weren’t. He’s had a difficult time of things. It can’t be easy for you to watch him suffer.”

That’s true. You feel really, really guilty for avoiding talking about what happened. Like maybe if you didn’t talk about it, he could learn to just shut stuff up like you do. Then again, that’s probably not great for you long-term. It’s not something you want to think about right now. You don’t really know what to say about it all, so you settle for stealing a gulp of your dad’s gross beer and getting a little comfier in the computer chair. 

“The drinking age is 21,” he teases, but doesn’t stop you from taking another gulp. “A good diversionary tactic, but you’re too young to be drowning your sorrows in alcohol. Might I suggest ice cream instead?”

“No, I’m just being a brat.”

Papa laughs. “Perish the thought. Would you like pizza for dinner, then, in lieu of ice cream or more stolen beer?”

“...Yes, please.”

“Could you spare a moment away from your research to ask Marco what he’d like?”

“Yeah. Can we get breadsticks?”

“Of course we can.”

“Mm, breadsticks.” Gods, you love breadsticks. “Okay, be right back!”

Your dad laughs as you dart up the stairs, almost tripping over the rug on the landing and jumping up two steps so you don’t fall. Sheesh, it really is easy to trip in here. You should really give Marco some slack. Excited but keeping in mind how important it is that Marco sleeps, you open your closed door (did you close the door?) carefully. 

To your surprise, Marco is already awake. He’s sitting on the edge of your bed with his back to you and his hood up. That’s...weird. All the lights are off in your room, you turned them off for your best friend, but he could have easily turned them back on. Maybe he opened the window in the corner for some fresh air and he’s enjoying the quiet. It’s nice out tonight

“Marco?” You try his name very softly. 

So far your research has warned you that people with PTSD might react really badly to being startled. Apparently you were too quiet, because Marco doesn’t turn to look at you.

“Marco?” You repeat a little louder, walking towards the bed when he doesn’t respond. “Hey, my dad is going to order pizza, are you--”

The figure turns to face you, zipping away before you can touch what you thought was your best friend’s shoulder. It’s not Marco’s familiar face inside the hood, but the face of a massive and monstrous fly. You shriek, backpedalling a good five feet in surprise and hoping this is some kind of crazy dream.

“If you ever want to see your friend alive again,” It hisses, proboscis dripping saliva as it spits out words you desperately wish it wasn’t saying. “Come to Ludo’s castle, alone.”

For a few seconds it hangs in the air, watching you process its words like it expects you to RSVP or something once you’ve had a second. It should have run. Two seconds into the silence and every instinct in you sparks like live wiring in water. He took him. He took him! 

You snarl, lunging at the monster in your best friend’s clothes. It might have come here for the message, but you won’t let it leave. The grotesque creature buzzes anxiously away from your claws and towards the open window. No!

Too slow to cut it off, you make a desperate grab and get a handful of hoodie, nothing more. It yanks itself out of the jacket and buzzes right out the window with you on its tail. At full speed you crash into the window frame, feel the wood crack and splinter from impact and screech after it while it hurries away.

No, no, no, no, no. You can’t catch it! It disappears into a scissor-portal down in the yard. There’s no way you can just let it go, you have to, you have to get your scissors and--

“Star?” Papa stands in the doorway to your bedroom, illuminated by light from the hall and searching for you in the darkening room. He must have heard you scream. “Are you alright?”

You cram the secret pair of scissors into your skirt pocket, knowing he can’t see them or he’ll know you’ve been keeping secrets and things will get even worse than they already are.

“Ludo took Marco.”

His face doesn’t betray him, but you can smell his anger. You shudder. 

“He wants me to bring the wand, and trade for him. There was a monster here with the message but,” You gesture to the open window. “He got away. I have to go.”

“That isn’t an option, my dear.” He says, starting over to you.

“I can’t just let Marco die! Stupid Ludo stupid wand stupid birthright--I never wanted any of this, you know!”

“I know. Take a deep breath, hatchling…” He takes a knee in front of you, cups your cheek comfortingly in one hand when you don’t snap at him. “No one is suggesting we do nothing. Do you think he’ll hurt Marco?”

“No! Maybe. I don’t know!” You ball yourself up in his arms, still fighting your instincts to, well, fight. The more you can think, the easier it gets to remember where you are and who’s holding you, that you don’t need to panic. “Do you think he’ll hurt Marco?”

“I don’t. It’s an empty threat. Ludo is hardly malicious. He wants the wand, and that’s all. In fact, I don’t believe he has the nerve to hurt Marco at all, much less kill him.”

It’s alright, Star. Take a breath in, then out. In, then out. You don’t have to do this alone. Marco might be gone and in danger, but he doesn’t have to rely on just you. Papa takes to petting your hair as you force yourself to breathe like a normal person. 

“I’m going to call Angie. You will stay,” He places you lightly on the bed. “Right here. I’ll be right back.”

He steps out into the hall, and you don’t stay on the bed. If he thinks you’re just going to stay in one place and not, and not have all the information, then he should think again. Quiet as you can, you creep to the closed door and listen to the sound of him dialing the downstairs phone. 

“Angie.” It really sucks that you can only hear one side of the conversation. “It’s alright. No, there haven’t been an magical incidents, but Ludo was here. Yes. Mmhm. He’s taken Marco--don’t panic, dear, I hate to hear you upset.”

There’s a long silence while Angie talks, and you try to imagine what she’s saying. It probably questions. Where did they take him? Why did they take him? Is he hurt, and where was Star?

Even if it’s hypothetical, the last imaginary question makes your guts do an unhappy little flip under your skin. Where was Star? Downstairs, doing nothing. Being a brat, stealing her dad’s beer, and not paying attention to what happened upstairs. You shouldn’t have left him alone at all. This is your fault. Ludo probably meant to take you and changed his plans when he found Marco. The thought lingers even after your dad starts talking again.

“--Of boredom, perhaps. Ludo isn’t cruel. Please, Angie, there’s no need to worry yourself. I’ll go and get him immediately. I only thought it best to keep you informed--yes, I will.” There’s a smile in his voice as he continues. “I will. Yes, with the sickle. Don’t worry yourself. That matter is well in hand. Yes. I will see you and Rafael soon.”

You hear him hang up the phone and bolt back to the bed, where he told you to stay.

“I want to help.” You say as your dad come back into the room.

“Absolutely not, hatchling.” He produces his sickle out of nowhere, like he always does, clipping the handle to his belt. It’s a neat trick, but now isn’t the time to be distracted. “I’ll handle this. Save your arguments.”

“So you’re just leaving me here?!”

“This is the safest place for you right now.” Even your best glare can’t keep him from kissing your forehead. “You need to stay here.”

“This is my fault.”

“No, it’s mine. I clearly didn’t keep a close enough eye on you. Allowing Ludo to harass you was foolish, and it’s not a mistake I’ll keep making. He had his chance to see sense. Stay here. Ludo will never bother you again.”

“But--”

“I’ll handle this,” He repeats, slashing open a portal with his scissors. “Stay here.”

But you’re not interested in staying here. He vanishes through the portal and leaves you alone in the house. He’s right, you think. It’s dangerous and your life is valuable.

Is it, though? You don’t even want to be Queen, do you. What does it matter? What does anything matter, if Marco is gone and you can’t even help get him back? This is your fault. Maybe Ludo thought this would be better, and Papa is right when he says the little Kappa probably won’t hurt Marco even if no one comes for him. If you know anything about Ludo, then you know he’s not a real general. Strategic killing is beyond him. Besides, if he hurts Marco then he’s lost all his power, right? That's the nature of hostage situations.

Though you’re still incredibly, unbelievably angry about it all, you know it won’t help to fly in and start firing spells. Ludo is just stupid. He doesn’t know where the lines are and he underestimated you and your dad. It’s not like he would just wave off Marco getting kidnapped. 

Maybe watching his soldier die hardened him, but you know (after a few minutes of collecting yourself) that Ludo as you know him isn’t going to hurt anyone on purpose. If there’s an accident though, if he makes a mistake--

It’s just this stupid wand. You hold the Royal Wand tightly in one fist, glaring down at it. It’s a symbol of everything wrong with your life and with the stupid Butterfly family. If it wasn’t for this wand, you would never have to fight Ludo at all. No one would be dead. Marco would still be here. Everything would be better if it was just...gone.

You need to ask your mentors a question.

Ten minutes later, you use the secret scissors from Ponyhead to cut a hole in space that spits you out in front of Ludo’s castle without a hitch. At least you have the scissors. You’re simultaneously proud of yourself for managing to keep them a secret and sick to your stomach about keeping something from your dad. But it’s better this way. 

You’re not going to wait for Papa to handle this. This is your fight. If Ludo wants your wand badly enough to take your best friend, then you’ll give him what he wants. He can have it.

 

\----------

 

Be Toffee.

You materialize just outside the castle gates. With your hatchling left safely at home, this will be child’s play. Clearly you were too forgiving. It’s a flaw of yours. You’re just too willing to suffer fools.

It’s unfortunate business. You never minded the Avarius family in particular, despite their misplaced allegiance to Queen Comet. Despite open declarations of support for the royal family, they always were excellent at sending supplies your way when the civil war began. They even sent you their son as a squire--which might have been an insult, given the boy, but you chose to see it as a show of faith. 

While you watch the tattered flags hoisted over the main tower, considering the best way to proceed, you’re interrupted by the Catesbe man you know as the one reasonable member of Ludo’s little boy’s club. What was his name?”

“Yvgeny.” You offer him a smile, how ever sharp it may be. “I trust you know why I’m here?”

He sighs heavily. “You have come here instead of the Star girl, da? I expected this. Ludo did not listen.”

“That seems to be a defining trait of his. Do stand aside. There are so few of your kind left, I would hate to kill you.”

“This time, you come to kill Ludo for good.”

“Correct. But I’m not unreasonable, Yvgeny. My argument is with him, not you.”

He hesitates before speaking again. “You killed Emmitt. He was good friend of mine, good monster.”

“An unfortunate necessity. You understand how it is, but let’s not discuss such an...unpleasant event. Today I’m here for the boy, and for Ludo’s head. Anything else is...blowing off steam, shall we say. You would do well to move.”

“...Then you will not kill more innocent monsters?” Yvgeny asks, halting but thoughtful.

“Not from your merry band of misfits, if they keep out of my way.”

“I see.” And he probably does. Yvgeny is a smart man. If you were still in the business of guerilla warfare and subterfuge, he’s the sort of monster you would hire. “If I take the others, you will let them leave? Will not attack us?”

“Of course. I’m not unreasonable. Contrary to what Ludo thinks, I care what happens to other monsters. I’ll let you and anyone who agrees with you leave.”

“Is this head start, as you say, or we are safe?” As you said, a smart man. It’s a terrible shame Ludo didn’t listen to him when he had the chance. “Is temporary promise, or permanent?”

“I won’t pursue you at all. Keep out of my way, and you may never see me again.”

“...Very well. I warned Ludo of this.” He shakes his head, swearing in a language you recognize, but don’t understand. “He is too stubborn. Consumed by thoughts of wand. He does not care for his men like promised.”

“Magic is a vice like any other. Your general is gone. Take what men will follow you, and get them to safety. I won’t stop you. As I said, you may never see me again.”

“Unlikely, yes, but I take your meaning. We will go. I will show you to Ludo.”

“Thank you, Yvgeny. You’ve made a very well-informed choice.”

“Is right choice, I hope. If I can save comrades, then is no choice at all. Come with me.”

He leads you through the unlocked front doors and towards the room you visited the last time you set foot in Castle Avarius. It really is a pretty piece of pre-Mewnian monster architecture. You wonder if any Kappa alive remembers what it took to build this place. Brudo wasn’t hatched when they finished the last servants’ building, much less when the grand halls were constructed. 

Perhaps you can find a use for this place, when Ludo is gone. It is, after all, royal property. Star might enjoy ownership of her own castle. You can think of no more fitting place for her than a monster-made throne. Changes will have to be made, of course, but not even Ludo could ruin the castle’s inherent potential.

“In here.” Yvgeny gestures to the door you strode through on your last visit. “Is waiting for Star. If Boofly is returned, he is expecting her soon.”

“Then he will be disappointed. Go.” You brush him off with a wave of your hand. “Find the others. I suggest you leave the castle.”

Ever a smart man, he does as he’s told. You watch his figure retreat down another hall and take a moment to compose yourself before you burst through the scuffed but nonetheless imposing double doors.

“Was my warning unclear, Ludo Avarius?” You stride into the dining hall where Ludo sits at the head of the table, flanked by two burly guards. 

One of them was present for Man-Arm’s death. His spiked club-hands bristle and his large, unfortunate-looking companion growls in his throat. Where does Ludo find these creatures? Marco is, unfortunately, nowhere in sight. So it will be a fight. You doubt his guards will abandon him, if they volunteered to wait for your daughter. Imbeciles. Such a waste of loyal men.

“...General Toffee.” Despite the imposing helmet, you can see the dread dawning on his repulsive little face.

“This was a quiet night in our house, you know. A pleasant night. This is your own doing. What did I say I would do to you, if you persisted?”

“I didn’t hurt your daughter!” He squawks. 

“Oh, but you did.” You give him an unpleasant sneer. “What did I say I would do?”

“....Skullfuck me.”

“And we both know I don’t make empty promises.” 

Though it will be difficult to follow through with this. Not even the pleasure of finally killing him and being rid of this nonsense can make up for how repulsive he is. This was a terrible threat to make. Funny at the time, but you never dreamed he would push his luck so far as to force your hand like this. 

“Perhaps this was nothing but a misunderstanding on your part.” And what a grievous misunderstanding that would be. “The gods know you’re stupid enough to forget what I said, or even misinterpret my words. Maybe you didn’t know what you were doing, and you’ll regret it when you come to your senses--which, I am afraid, I will not give you time to do.”

“Wait, wait--you’re really going to--?”

“Did I stutter, Avarius?”

“But that’s--”

“Oh believe me, I’m aware. Disgusting? _Depraved?_ Yes, well, neither of us thought it would come to this, I’m sure. If it’s any consolation, it will be worse for me than it will be for you. I’ll have to live with the memory of touching...quite frankly, any amount of your skin with my skin. But alas, a promise is a promise. You can always look at the bright side. I can put both of your eyes out at once. You’ll probably die immediately.”

“Don’t do this.”

“And why shouldn’t I?” Ah, beggars have always been your least favorite when you’re trying to make things quick. How unappetizing. A promise is a promise, you remind yourself.

“You led this army, General Toffee.” He spits your old title like an insult. It is an insult, you suppose, but not in the way he thinks of it. “You believed in monster rights. You should be helping me! Now you’re serving the Queen!”

Ah. He isn’t wrong. You’re a shill for what you spoke out against--playing nice with the Butterfly family, currying favor with the crown. Archduke Batwin would be so proud of your change of heart, if he weren’t so dead. A decade ago, you gave this speech to the Archduke himself. Now you find yourself running an errand for that very very same royal family you wanted dead. How things change in a decade.

“Enough time can change anyone, Ludo. I know you aren’t comparing your motley crew of children to a real army, are you? How insulting.”

“I didn’t do anything to your daughter.” He repeats. His guards draw their weapons, and he raises a wing to tell them to stand down. 

“Oh, you don’t _really_ believe that, do you?”

“It’s true, and you can’t hurt me--I know your secret!”

You should really be getting on with things, but you’re intrigued. “...And what secret would that be, exactly?”

He can’t possibly have guessed at anything important. Just look at the little moron. It doesn’t matter anyway, seeing as he’ll be dead, but you would like to know what he thinks he knows. If he’s learned anything important, you’ll disprove it and let one of his guards live to correct their coworkers. If it’s baseless speculation, you’ll simply kill all three as you intended when you first entered the room. 

“I’m waiting.” You tell him, amused by his hesitation. It’s nice to know you’re still intimidating enough to quiet a room.

“I know your secret.”

“Which is...?” 

“...That you’re a woman, of course.”

It takes you a full ten seconds to piece that together. A woman. He thinks. You’re a woman. Of all the outlandish, crazy theories you might have guessed, this one comes out of nowhere. You’re not sure if you can even dignify it with an answer.

“It’s okay, Madame General, this is a safe spa--”

You stride up to his ridiculous mountain of pillows, right past his useless guards, and punch him in the throat. Both of his men backpedal several feet. So much for loyal men, you suppose. They’re terrified of you, as they should be, but it really is rather sad.

“--GAH!”

“Just when I think you can’t get any _fucking_ stupider. This is unbelievable. Un- _fucking_ -believable. I’m not a woman.”

“Oh. Was your, um, husband--”

“No!”

“...Then how did you and that nice crocodile man have a daughter?”

“We didn’t.” Deep breaths, Toffee. 

“....But you have a daughter.”

“Yes.” Obviously. “I do.”

“And a husband.”

“ _Late_ husband.”

“Oh.” He at least has the decency to look sheepish. “Then who’s her mother?”

“Quite frankly, that’s none of your business.”

Ludo straightens up a smidge. “Sorry.”

“You aren’t yet, but you will be. I’ve wasted enough time. Where is Marco Diaz?”

Ludo shifts uncomfortably on his ridiculous mound of pillows. “Why do you care?”

“He’s the son of a dear friend, not to mention my daughter’s closest confidante. Star was distraught to find him missing. Did you think I would ignore something so upsetting, or allow her to come to Castle Avarius alone?”

“You didn’t let her come at all.”

“And why on earth would I, Ludo? The Avarius family isn’t know for their stellar parenting capabilities, but even you should know that I won’t send my daughter into danger.”

Ludo narrows his eyes. “Your daughter, or your pawn?”

“My daughter,” You repeat that firmly, staring him down. “Does not go into strange castles full violent manchildren. It’s above her. I would never allow her inside any place like this.

“But I’m still here.”

Both you and Ludo fall silent, stricken speechless as Star herself picks her way down the carpet leading from the door to the table. 

“SEIZE HER!” Ludo screeches.

“There’s no need.” She raises a hand to the guards and stills them as easily as Ludo did with his wing. Both of them hesitate, clearly remembering their numerous defeats at her hand. Good. You’re so taken aback, you don’t move to stop her as she continues forward. You are speechless. “I came to trade my wand for Marco. That’s all.”

“...Really?” Ludo can’t seem to find anything else to say. 

“Yes. I don’t need it anymore, and I never wanted it to begin with. You can have it. Where’s my best friend?”

“He’s in the dungeon. You can have him when I have the wand.”

“Show me that he’s okay, or I’ll kill you and every monster in the castle.”

Despite everything, you’re proud of how she handles herself. She doesn’t look frightened at all, nor should she. 

“...I can’t just--”

“Then I will help you. _Occulta revelando._ ”

She casts her spell beautifully. For a moment the table in front of her is a circle of perfectly reflective material, a mirror that shows her Marco where he’s been chained to the wall of a cell. Though it isn’t audible, you can see his mouth moving as he calls for someone. The spell ends before you can make out what he’s saying. Ludo gasps, nearly loses his seating scrabbling down the cushions to touch the mirrored circle before it vanishes.

“How did you--”

“It doesn’t matter.” Star cuts him off easily. “I’ve brought you the wand, not free magic lessons. Don’t push your luck.”

“...Alright.”

“I hate this stupid thing. But you can have it.” She fixes her eyes on Ludo as she steps onto the tabletop with him, her voice lowering until she’s poisonously quiet; walking slowly up the length of the table, every step measured and deliberate. “I just have to make it safe for you to use.”

“Hurry, then! I’ll send for Marco the human right now. Spike Balls! Get me the Star girl her best friend. Go! Three-Eyed Potato Baby, stay.”

Star brings the wand to her lips as she walks, whispering a spell. The front of the wand opens to reveal a tiny unicorn running on a moving track. Dear gods, there’s nothing you can do to stop her as the unicorn dissolves to ash. She batts the little ghost away from her face before it can tell her what she’s done. Face scrubbed of emotion, she drops the dead wand at Ludo’s feet.

“It’s yours.” She tells him. “Keep it.”

“But...what did you do?” He snatches the wand up greedily. “What--what did you do to it?”

“I smothered it.”

No. Not like this, is all you can think. No. You know this spell, this spell Moon told you of what feels like a lifetime ago. Ludo can’t muster anything to say as he stares down at the smothered wand in his hands.

You’re frozen. 

“You killed it.” He whispers. “How?”

“It’s better this way. I promise. You’ll see.”

This isn’t over. Star’s plan was sound, even admirable if she knew all the information--but she doesn’t know. Once, you knew all there was to know about the Whispering Spell. It featured well in your plans, before Star was even a thought in the back of your mind. Destroying the wand would be a great equalizing tactic. Moon needed the wand to cast then, and you thought one day Star would as well--but she doesn’t, does she? This is something you might have suggested to her if not for the immediate, drastic consequence of killing such a powerful artifact.

It’s going to explode.

Two things cross your mind very quickly. First, the wand is a weapon of mass destruction, and destroying it will set that power free all at once. Second, Star doesn’t know. You snatch your daughter down from the table, ignoring her protests. 

“Papa, what--”

You slash open a portal to the dungeon, and toss your scissors through the portal. That should be far enough, the children should be safe there. You might have even guessed the correct cell, but you’ve no time to check. 

“It’s not over. I love you.” You promise, nosing her cheek quickly. “Be brave for me, alright? I’ll see you soon.”

You force her through the portal and her destroyed wand erupts in searing magical flames you ignore in favor of snatching the wand itself out of Ludo’s slack grip and ripping the crystalline charger out of the end. It won’t do to give it more power.

“It’s been a pleasure.” You snark, before punting Ludo through the nearest stain-glass window. If you’re wrong, if your current plan doesn’t succeed, Ludo can’t be anywhere near the wand when it self-destructs. With a death grip on the wand itself, magical fire spewing away from you, you turn to Ludo’s remaining henchman. “Run. Now.”

With that, you punch the crystal face of the wand as hard as you can. Magical fire engulfs your arm, your face as you hit it again. Let Star be far enough away, you think as the five-point crystal breaks in half and the fire doesn’t cease. Let her be somewhere safe. Please, gods, let her be safe. 

_I’m sorry,_ you think, and then you can’t think of anything at all as the magic rips your body apart.

 

\----------

 

“No!” You bite back a scream, struggling against Marco’s grip to grab at the scissors even as the portal closes behind you. There’s silence for a moment, and then the very ground beneath you shudders and groans from the force of the explosion upstairs. “NO!”

Be Star, the girl who killed her own father.

Ludo’s castle is gone. When Marco finally agrees to leave the cell, you knock down the door and approach the stairs--only to be blinded by sunlight streaming down the stairs. There’s nothing but a few odd bricks left where a castle used to be, nothing but scorched stone foundation and ash. Some of the foundation is burnt so thoroughly it reminds you of obsidian, of black glass puddles scattered in places where the dust and sand on the floor melted away. You’re standing in a field of nothing.

Not nothing. There, in the wreckage of the dining hall-turned-throne room, is dark puddle of steaming black glass shining amid melted stone flooring and ash. 

Not twenty feet from where you stand, you see Ludo stand from a heap of powdery white ash with a loud, full-body sneeze. Without his usual skull helm, now laying in the dirt beside him, the so-called general looks much younger than usual. Parts of his feathers are singed down to the skin, one eye bruised shut and soot staining his chipped beak.

“The castle.” He croaks as you advance on him, already walking towards you. Ludo comes to a stop inside the room, where his throne once was. “The wand--where is the wand?!”

“Where’s my dad, you fucking disgrace?!”

“Where is the wand?!”

You snarl at him, lashing out with your claws across his face as he wails in fear.

“Star, your hearts!” Marco grabs your shoulder and drags you back a few inches, as far as he can before you brace yourself with another snarl. “Hey, look, please calm down, please. Look at me. Hey. Star! Your hearts are, they’re...they’re turning black.”

You catch a glimpse of yourself in the cooling glass, and see that he's right. Black climbs from the downward points, blotting out your usual bright pink. Shocked, you reach up and touch on cheek heart with a gentle finger. Something about it feels..brittle. It breaks in half under your touch. So does the other. You fall to your knees in front of your reflection. 

“I’m sorry.” You whisper to the now-bloody Ludo. “Go.”

“You’re not...going to kill me?”

“No. This was my fault.”

It’s like you’re a puppet and somebody cut your strings. Everything feels stiff and numb and immovable. Your arms and legs might as well be made of wood for all you can move them, you feel like you can’t move at all. The usually-pink hearts don’t turn back. The two halves don’t reconnect as you watch them. Vaguely you remember the Queen warning you that your cheek marks will always give away your real feelings.

You’re heartbroken. As quietly as you can, you start to cry. He’s, he’s gone. Your dad is gone. Marco falls to his knees next to you.

“Star…”

“It’s all my fault, Marco.” You whisper. “I did this.”

“What? No! It’s not, I don’t think, you didn’t--how?”

“I killed the wand.”

“What have you done?” Ludo’s grating voice interrupts your thoughts. He takes a step towards you, fallen helmet in hand, shocked and dripping off-color blood down his front. “You’ve destroyed everything. Where will I go now?”

“Anywhere. Nowhere.” 

“But--”

“I don't care.” The words catch in your throat. “Do whatever you want.”

“Where’s the wand now?”

“It’s gone.”

“...Gone where?”

You don’t even bother to look up at him. “Wherever my dad is. It’s just gone. You still want it, after all this? After seeing what it could do? It’s the same one, you know. That turned Solaria’s subjects into demons. That killed thousands of innocent monsters. It’s that one.”

“You had the Butterfly wand? I…” His voice brightens ever so slightly, though you can’t see why that’s exciting. It’s dead, the wand is gone. “I knew it! I knew the General stole it!”

“He didn’t steal it.”

“But--”

“Star, you can’t!” Marco is pulling at your arm, pleading with you without words, but there’s no need. Doesn’t he know? It doesn’t matter anymore.

“The contract is broken. My father is gone.” To Ludo, you say: “Queen Moon gave it to me on my thirteenth birthday. During my coronation.”

Not even Ludo says anything for a moment. You feel Marco’s horror from beside you, crystallizing in the silence. He knows what will happen if you break the contract, but you know (if nothing else) that it’s just paper now. You’re proved right when you don’t drop dead on the spot. Yes, the contract is broken.

“Like I said. The contract is broken now. I can tell you everything, if you want to know.” You gather yourself up to your full height, despite Ludo barely coming up to your knees. “I’m Princess Astera Miriam Uhlayiss. I grew up in the Butterfly dungeons, and one day I will take the throne. We made a contract that I wouldn’t tell anyone I’m half-monster, but it’s broken now. My dad is...gone.”

You can’t bring yourself to say ‘dead.’ It’s too surreal. It’s too much. You’re going to be sick.

“I’m sorry.” Ludo whispers. “This isn’t what I wanted. I didn’t want anyone to die.”

“I know.”

“...Do you think the wand is gone forever?”

“I hope it is.”

“But--”

“It’s a doomsday weapon, Ludo. No one should have it. Especially not us. Let’s face it,” You manage to look up from your reflection despite the embarrassing tears streaking your cheeks. “I’m just a kid, and you’re not any better. No one person should have all that power. I… I killed everyone.”

For once, Ludo doesn’t say a thing. He’s quiet, you’re all quiet for a long time. 

“Send me somewhere.” He says.

“Where do you want to go?”

“Anywhere. Nowhere. Use my scissors. I don’t want to be here anymore.”

“Okay.” You stare down at the skull-shaped scissors he offers you handle-first for a moment before you take them. “I don’t know where anything is.”’

“Close your eyes, and picture nothing. Then cut the portal.”

With a shaky hand, you do as he says. The resulting portal is like nothing you’ve ever seen before, as glassy-black as the floor beneath you, but darker. It’s pitch black, the absence of light, and Ludo doesn’t hesitate as he approaches it.

“Give Buff Frog my scissors.” He tells you. “And here.”

Ludo holds out his skull helmet, an offering.

“Keep this. I’ll be back one day, Princess Star.” He frowns. “No, that’s not right, is it? General Star. Take care of her.”

“Oh, I…”

“Varserys hates the void. She can’t come with me. Kneel.”

Maybe it’s the shock that makes you do as he says, maybe it’s the guilt. But you take a knee in front of him and allow him to place the skull on your head.

“I’ll beat you, one day, and take her back. This is just one battle, General Star. I’ll be back to win the war. We’ll see who’s a real general. You’ll see.”

Ludo steps into the portal. You close it behind you. Marco is still frozen at your back, probably staring into the portal how you would if anything mattered anymore. Ludo gave you his hat, you’re the General of the Monster Army now, and it doesn’t even matter at all. Nothing matters, right? You can’t feel anything. This can’t be real. Oh, gods, don’t let this be real. You can’t--

“Star.” Marco whispers. “Star...who, who is that?”

“Who is--”

You turn around and pause, adjust the skull helmet to shield your eyes from the glare of the setting sun. Of course, you think, of course this isn’t over. A short, stout figure is silhouetted in the harsh orange light. Her horns cut an impressive shadow, long red hair gleaming like the fire floating above her head.  
“Hekapoo.” You whisper.

“Princess Star.” Her voice shakes when she speaks. “What have you done?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops. That happened, didn't it? 
> 
> Stick around for part two, which I'll be posting on the same schedule as usual. As always, thank you so much for comments/kudos. I love hearing what you all think! You're all the greatest, and you all think about the consequences of your actions before you put a plan in motion. Ah, the hubris of man(lizard-girl)kind.


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